Have you ever had a loved one, who was mentally disabled? I have. His name is Billy. He is not only my brother in law, but also my best friend. While he may look twenty-nine, truthfully he is only mentally four. Even with his disabilities, he's able to walk, slightly talk, and has the gift of putting a smile on anyone's face. With having Billy in my life, he has given me a new sense of belonging.
The first time I heard about Billy, was in 2002. It was New Years Eve, and I had spent the night at Ryan's house knowing in the morning I would meet his brother. At first I was a little scared, because I never really knew anyone growing up that was mentally disabled. I knew very little at the time about Billy's disability, so I didn't know what to expect. I knew that he was mentally four, and that his condition was brought on by seizures due to the DTaP shot. That's it. I didn't know what he looked like, or if there was anything I would have to avoid doing in his presence.
I woke up in the morning; Ryan was nowhere to be found. I was alone, alone in a house where I would have to take the chance of going downstairs and meeting Billy alone. I opened the door a crack and listened for any sounds at all. Eventually, I built up enough courage to walk into the hallway, to the top of the stair. Standing there, realizing that Ryan's dad and brother (Billy) were in the dining room at the bottom of the stairs. There would be no avoiding them. I worked myself into a panic; fear had made itself at home inside me. Slowly, tiptoeing down the stairs, I hoped and prayed the stairs would not make noise.
With the luck I was having, sure enough the last step before the opening to the dining room, made an awful squeaking noise. I peeked my head through the opening, and had to have looked like a deer caught in headlights, because Ryan's dad Patrick had a look of concern on his face, and asked if I was alright. I muttered something unintelligently back to him while Billy and I stared at one another. I watched as Billy put his coffee down, stood up and came to the stairs. He walked up the four steps I had left and grabbed my hand, pulling me along with him back to the table. We both sat down, I didn't know what else to do. After the coffee was gone, I was dragged anywhere and everywhere he wanted to take me, until Ryan came to my rescue and asked Billy if he could borrow me. At first, Billy didn't let go of my hand, once he finally did Ryan and I went and sat outside in the garage and talked about Billy.
Question after question rolled out of Ryan's mouth about what I thought about Billy; along with stories about their childhood. Ryan told me that his favorite thing to do with Billy was play cars. Their version of cars involved each of them in their own room across the hall from one another. Ryan would run a car from his room-under his door-through the hallway-and under Billy's door, and vice versa. This made me laugh, and through Ryan's stories I learned a lot about Billy. I learned Billy's favorite food is pizza, favorite color is green, that everyone calls him Bubba, and that his birthday is a few days after mine. Once back inside, it was about time for me to go home. I went to say goodbye to Billy and he threw his arms around me and gave me a big bear hug. It was the most amazing moment with Billy; he was hugging me as if he knew me. Strange enough, I felt at that instant like I had known Billy my entire life.
May 2006, I had a baby boy, and I chose to name him William. Christmas that year Billy met William for the first time. Billy couldn't get over the fact there was a "baby" in the family. Billy, was now an Uncle (to our son), which excited him. Ryan and I agreed to let Billy hold William. Billy sat there with William in one arm, with the other finger pointing at William, continually saying baby. Ryan and I both tried explaining to Billy the baby's name was William. At first, Billy didn't seem to understand because he would point to himself and say William. Once he realized that we named our son after him, he went around pointing to himself saying William, and then towards our son and saying baby William. It was a wonderful day.
It's me and Billy's birthday, Thanksgiving day 2007, and instead of us blowing out candles on the cakes together. I witness my first seizure. I had known all day something was wrong with Billy. He wasn't walking around, holding my hand, talking, or smiling; instead he was dazed and laying in a chair with his feet up, along with his helmet on. I asked Ryan's mom Marilyn what was wrong with Billy. She explained to me how Billy acts this way if he knows he's about to have a seizure, or has a feeling he could have one. At first her words didn't seem to register in my mind. Not until about an hour later, Billy starting twitching and shaking. I was mortified. I broke down and starting crying, while everyone was running around me grabbing towels, and holding him down. Once it was over, Ryan came over to me to try and calm me. He explained to me that it was a small seizure, nothing serious. I hated myself for crying selfishly, and not being there for him.
Throughout the years, Ryan and I have tried taking Billy out in public. At least once a year we go to the same Pizza Hut and sit down with him. During these trips, I've witnessed many different reactions from others. People are cruel; they stare and tend to go out of their way to avoid walking, or being sat by our table; while others don't mind it. The server's have normally been wonderful, and will normally treat him like any human being should be treated. What I like most about going out with Billy on these trips is that he is almost always in a positive mood. If someone's rude to him though, and he catches onto that emotion, you can see the sadness in his eyes, but he will still smile.
I have honestly learned a lot from Billy. I have come to understand basic sign language like: eat, drink, sit, bathroom, go and stop. He has introduced me to his friends at his home and each year his home held a banquet where the family members are welcome to come for the day and play games with the children, and younger adults who are disabled. This yearly event gave me a new sense of compassion and understanding about people who are mentally disabled, to bad Billy is now too old to be involved in them.
I have had the opportunity to teach Billy new things, each time he comes for a visit. I have taught him that if he's around me he has to talk and tell me what he wants, instead of pointing and nodding. With this I have helped broaden his vocabulary, along with giving him enough courage to try and say a new word. It's an amazing feeling when I see him trying to do something that at one point in time would have been wishful thinking. I have formed a strong connection with Billy throughout the years, and I feel as though given enough time I could really help Billy's condition, and teach him things doctors said he won't be able to do. My husband thinks I am crazy, and have my head in the clouds about this. But, in my heart I truly think I am one of the only people that can help him not only learn, but become someone others may look at as "normal." Even if I can't convey all the feelings I feel about Billy, I can sum it all up in one tiny statement; Love. I love Billy and no one will ever replace him in my heart.
