My Oldest Son Is Dead.

Billy Matthew Karnes was born on April 19, 1988. He died in a pick-up truck yesterday, May 30, 2009. He was always angry. He was always hurting. He was plagued with self-doubt. He was one of the saddest people I ever knew. When he was 4 years old he asked me why I loved his little brother more than I loved him. It was a shocking question. And nothing I ever did could convince him that I loved him. And nothing I ever did for him was good enough. He resented and was embarrassed by my poverty. On his thirteenth birthday I bought him a a Ralph Lauren tie. I did it because when he was a very little boy he used to beg me to let him wear my ties and I always said, when you're a teenager I'll buy you a tie. But after I left his and his mother's house, I was told this later, he threw a tantrum and wrecked his room. The more I did for him the more he fed me dirt sandwiches. So, eventually, when he was 16, I stopped asking him to visit. I kept writing to him, though. He never answered a letter. Never called on the phone. But I loved him. I remembered bringing him home from the hospital, him taking naps on my chest. I remember his first stitches from falling and breaking his mouth open on a door jamb. I baptized him in my Aunt Nettie and Uncle Fred's pool when he was 8. I wasn't Orthodox at the time but we used the Nicene Creed as a guide for talking about the Faith before he went under the water. Do I have regrets? Almost more than I can bear. The list of errors I made as his father is a terrible and long indictment. When he got out of the Army in January he didn't tell me where he was going. In fact, I didn't know he was out of the Army until I got worried enough (I hadn't heard anything from him in more than a year) to write to his Sergeant Major. I only learned a couple of weeks ago that he was in California, working on a cattle ranch. It took me a few days to decide whether or not to call him. Finally, I did. That was last Tuesday. I left a message at the ranch office for him. On Thursday he called me. He said, "Dad, this is Billy. I'm just calling to tell you not to call me anymore." Then he hung up. Now, three days later, he is dead, his pick up truck rolled over on him. I talked to his pastor about an hour ago - I have a funeral to arrange. He said Billy had been going to church. I've missed Billy for so many years. I've had dreams of him joining me in the rental property business, or maybe if I bought ag land he could run a cattle operation on it for me, since he has the experience. Now it looks like I am going to be missing him for many more years.