Lamenting A Brother

On Sunday, April 4, 1993 my world changed.

It was the typical Sunday morning. I attended church and afterwards dropped my friend Lee off, then rushed to the nearest mall. There was a pair of shorts I just had to have at Champs and I knew I had a short time to get to the mall and get home before my mom did. I would catch her wrath for spending the money and going to the mall period, so I had to make it quick. I rushed back only to see cars parked in front of our house and for a very short moment I wondered if we were supposed to have company.
I pulled around the back and there was a man in a Marine uniform standing beside a white 15 passenger van. I don't even remember what my first thought was but when I stepped out of my car, and he asked if I was Jennifer, I knew something was very wrong. He told me I needed to go inside and see my mother.
I ran to the door and as I opened it and stepped in I saw my pastor standing at our dining room table. He told me my brother had been killed in a car accident and grabbed me in a strong embrace. I remember screaming "No!" and I heard my mother screaming in the hallway. She came in the kitchen and grabbed me, crying, "Billy is gone."
That moment was so unreal. I remember thinking,"this cannot be happening".

Our community was very small so it didn't take long for the word to get out about my brother's death. In what seemed like minutes hundreds of people were coming in and out of our home. I remember standing at the back sliding glass door, staring out, and hearing those behind me saying I was in shock. Maybe I was. I was heartbroken. I was angry. I was absolutely crushed. The person who had been with me since the womb was gone.

To those that don't know, Billy and I were twins. My mom, nor her doctor, knew she was pregnant with twins. It wasn't until her blood pressure dropped dangerously low and the nurse screamed to the doctor that there was another one that anyone knew. Thru all the tests available in those days, there was only one heartbeat ever heard. Unexplainable.

Billy and I were constant companions. When we lived in South Florida we were always seen riding our bikes and building forts; skateboarding; swimming until we looked like little Latino raisins; playing ball; wrestling....you name it and we were doing it together. When we moved to Central Florida we became even closer because there weren't many kids around to play with. We had to be very creative out "in the country". We were city kids, used to lots of other kids and open streets....not cow patties and barbed wire. We had to keep each other entertained. He taught me how to ride our dirt bike and how to shoot his B-B gun....he even shot me with it once.

Our childhood went by so fast and before we knew it we were driving. At that age we weren't so close, unless he had brought a handful of his friends over and wanted me to make hamburgers and fries for them....then I was his best friend again. He had all his beautiful girlfriends and buddies to keep him busy. I was busy playing softball, working a part-time job, and hanging out with my own set of friends. All we really seemed to talk about was what route each of us would take on the way to school and then race each other to get there. He always seemed to win even though I had the faster car. I let him win. ;o) And of course, when he would come home at night and ask for his messages....the girls really liked him.

Next thing we knew graduation was upon us. He had decided to join the Marine Corps and I was headed back to South Florida for college. We didn't see much of each other but wrote one another often, or when Mom would get on us to write each other.
He really enjoyed the Marines and I was hating college so I moved back home in December '91. I couldn't have made a better decision, for over the next year I would develop some incredible friendships; those that would make what was soon to happen a little easier to bear.

I remember the last time I saw Billy. He had come home to buy a new truck and I went with him to the dealership to pick it up. I'll never forget riding home with him, looking out the side window, crying. I remember worrying that he would be sent off somewhere and having this awful feeling that I may never see him again. He didn't see the tears falling...thank God. He would leave within a couple days to go back to North Carolina and as it turned out, my greatest fear came true.
In March '93 one of our great uncles passed away and Mom didn't want to tell Billy because she knew he would drive home for the funeral. She was and still is always worried about us traveling. When Billy found out he missed the funeral he was so upset. I remember talking to him on the phone, explaining what happened and why we didn't tell him. That was the last time we ever spoke. Who knew?

In less than a month he was gone.

While standing at the sliding glass door that Sunday afternoon our whole lives went thru my head. I relived our last moments together and the last conversation we had. I thought this was so very wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen in our family. My mom had already endured such a terrible marriage and now I was wondering how God could possibly put this tragedy on her.

Over the next few days those incredible friends I had wouldn't leave my side. My Mom had friends constantly with her, as well. They would stay the night with us so that we wouldn't be alone. I remember listening to my Mother weeping in the middle of the night and wondering how in the world she would ever get through this.

April 8 was the day of the funeral. I had asked to pick a few songs that would play as people filled the church and one of those songs was "Heaven" by Michael English. I had listened to that song many times in the months before Billy's death for no other reason than its beauty. I ask that each of you who read this note get that song on your iPods and listen to it. It is a beautiful, peaceful song.
I remember sitting at the service between my Uncle Ken and Aaron, one of Billy's closest friends who had joined the Marines with him. My cousin, Todd, gave the eulogy and while I'm sure it was beautiful, all I remember during that time was praying, "help me be strong". Before the end of the service I was to place the last letter I had written to Billy in his casket. I needed to be strong for that moment...I needed to be strong for my Mom.
I can tell you everything about that week but I cannot tell you what was in that letter. I do know it was everything that I carry in my heart.

I share these moments with you because so many of you knew Billy. So many of you shared with me that week that is forever engraved in my memory.
I've often wondered why there was only one heartbeat ever heard during my Mom's pregnancy. Sometimes I get carried away in my thoughts and think that God put me there at the last minute because Mom would need me. Sometimes I think that it's because Billy and I were one even before birth.
It's been 17 years and aside from only seeing him in pictures and very often in my dreams, it's like he's never been gone. I guess that's because we really did share one heartbeat and it still beats in me.