[Congressional Record Volume 157, Number 99 (Wednesday, July 6, 2011)]
[Senate]
[Pages S4383-S4386]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
HONORING OUR ARMED FORCES
Sergeant William J. Woitowicz, U.S.M.C.
Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, on June 7, 2011, Groton, the State of
Massachusetts, and our country lost a brave young man who gave his life
defending the Nation he loved. Sergeant William ``Billy'' Woitowicz
died serving with the U.S. Marine Corps in Afghanistan, fighting as a
part of Operation Enduring Freedom.
In the difficult days that followed this awful news, the entire
Groton community came together to show their support for his family and
to remember Billy's dedication and selflessness. Joe Moore, a family
friend, described Bill movingly in a tribute that was itself an act of
great devotion. I ask that it be printed in the Record so that all of
us can reflect on the sacrifice of a courageous marine tragically lost
much too soon in service to a grateful nation.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Eulogy for Sergeant William J. Woitowicz
(Delivered by Joseph F. Moore)
Before I begin, I would like to read the statement I
prepared for the media on behalf of the Woitowicz family this
past Tuesday. It did not make its way to the individuals and
communities that poured love from their hearts for Billy and
his family.
On behalf of the Woitowicz family, I would like to thank
everyone for their heartfelt condolences, the kind words, the
outpouring of emotion, gifts of food, offers of help, cards,
and prayers. I can't tell you how much that has meant to my
friends. They appreciate your kindness very much.
They would also like to thank the Marines for the
tremendous support of their family and the respect they've
shown Billy in the way they have treated him as they've
brought him home. My father was a Marine during World War II
and I've always had a tremendous respect for the Corps. The
actions of these Marines, in the way they've treated my
friends, especially Sergeant Owens, only enhances that
admiration.
If I could pause for a moment--Would you please stand and
join me in a round of applause for the United States Marine
Corps, and the Marines joining us today to honor their fallen
comrade, to show them how much we appreciate the sacrifices
they make for us?
Billy was a wonderful person. You only need to see the
flags lining the streets of Groton and Westford, the messages
of love, the swollen eyes, to see how people cared about him.
It is because he cared for them--that was Billy, always more
interested and concerned for you than he was for himself.
Although we mourn for Billy and our hearts ache for the
loss of him, we know there is a celebration in heaven for the
return of one of God's favorite sons and soldiers.
I am pleased to announce the Groton Dunstable Youth
Basketball League, which I have great pride in saying I
served for 15 years, has named their 3-on-3-basketball
tournament after Billy. Thanks so much to the Board members;
this means a lot to the Woitowicz family and to me.
Our State Representative Sheila Harrington is spearheading
a movement to create the Sergeant William J. Woitowicz
Memorial Trust. The trust will fund a scholarship named after
Billy and other activities chosen by the family. Thank you,
Sheila. We appreciate your efforts.
Billy's second mother, my wife Karen, said, ``For a kid who
didn't like attention, he sure drummed up a lot of it.''
Billy, did you see us on the tarmac waiting for you to come
home?
Did you see the respect of your fellow Marines as they
gently held you?
Did you see the people standing in honor as we drove
through Hanscom?
Did you see Mr. Clickner with tears in his eyes holding a
basketball?
Did you see the gentleman, also a Marine, at the exit with
the sign that read, ``Thank you Corporal Woitowicz, I try to
be worth dying for.''
Did you see the cherry pickers with American flags flowing
down from them at the rotary?
Did you see the fire trucks from Acton and Maynard, Boxboro
and Littleton, parked on the overpass, with their ladders
extended and connected in a salute of honor, and the firemen
standing on top of their trucks?
Did you see people who simply stopped by the procession and
got out of their cars with their hands over their hearts?
Did you see along the route you traveled, the rescue
squads, state police, sheriffs, and the police and firemen
from Lexington, Concord, Acton, Watertown, Melrose, Medford,
Lowell, Maynard, Boxboro, Lancaster, Littleton, Harvard,
Ayer, Dunstable, Groton, and Westford?
Did you see the older veterans, in their uniforms, standing
at salute?
Did you see the people pouring out of their offices as your
procession passed by?
Did you see the elderly gray-haired woman, standing by
herself in Harvard, holding an American flag?
Did you see the lines of people in bordering towns with
genuine looks of anguish?
Did you see the rows of people on Main Street in Groton?
And did you notice they were patiently waiting when we
returned from the high school to honor you twice?
Did you see the Groton-Dunstable High School
administrators, teachers, and students in respectful
alignment? The students were proud to attend the same high
school as you.
Did you see that we stopped at Orr Road, to pay tribute to
where you grew up?
Did you see the fire trucks from Groton and Westford, your
two home towns, with their ladders outstretched over 225,
forming a gateway for your return?
Did you see the people in Forge Village, waiting patiently
for you?
Did you see the little kids of Norman E. Day Elementary
School saluting and waving?
Did you see the people holding flags in front of St.
Catherine's?
Did you know your friend Kelly was going to give up her
vacation to drive back from California because she loves you
so much?
Kevin and Rose, and my wife Karen and I have seven
children. Their children are ours and ours, theirs. Just as I
know Kevin and Rose love our kids, we love Chris, Bill, and
Mandy as our own. Billy was like a son and, for reasons that
I never completely understood he seemed to be attached to me.
Rose and Karen would often say, ``Billy really likes talking
to you. He looks up to you, Joe. Talk to him.'' And when my
dearest friend Rosemary asked me to do this eulogy, Karen
said, when I hung up the phone, ``He loved talking to you.
You should to do it. Share how much we all love him, respect
him, and how much we now miss him.''
Please bear with me as I give honor, through this eulogy,
to my friend and hero, Sergeant William J. Woitowicz, USMC.
It is a great privilege that you have bestowed on me, Kevin
and Rose. Thank you.
At the same time that I was saying yes to Rose, I was
wondering how I would ever get through this without breaking
down. I knew I couldn't, but nothing could ever keep me from
it, not even the fear of losing my composure in front of all
of you, once my friends Kevin and Rose asked me to do this
for them.
Do me a favor. In the minutes that it might take me to
recover, please raise your eyes to heaven and look for
Billy's smiling face. And while you focus on him, pray for
his mom and dad, and his brother and sister. I would ask that
you to pray for Bill but I know he is in a better place,
happy to be home. Even if he did need our prayers, it
would be the preference of our unselfish Bill that you
turn your thoughts not to him but to his family.
And please get comfortable, as this might take longer than
one of Father Peter's sermons. We sometimes pack a lunch for
the 11:00 Mass when we know he is preaching.
Speaking of Father Peter, some of you may not know that
prior to being a parish priest, he was at a monastery for
which he had to take a vow of silence. He was only allowed to
say two words every seven years. After the first seven years
the elders called him in and asked for his two words. ``Cold
floors,'' he said. The elders nodded and sent him away. Seven
more years passed. They brought him back in and asked for his
two words. He cleared his throat. ``Bad food,'' he said. They
nodded and sent him away. Seven more years passed. They
brought him in for his two words. ``I quit,'' he said.
``That's not surprising,'' the elders said. ``You've done
nothing but complain since you got here.''
You might think it inappropriate to begin this eulogy with
a joke, but it is exactly what Bill would have wanted. There
is not a doubt in my mind that Billy is saying right now,
``Way to go, Mr. Moore.'' That happens to be one of his
favorite expressions. I will try to paint a picture of Billy
to help you understand why this is so.
In 1996, Karen and I moved our family from Allentown,
Pennsylvania, to Groton. We were building a new house and it
was not completed before the start of the school year so we
crammed into a suite at the Westford Regency Hotel for six
weeks. Prior to trekking to Groton, we had signed our kids up
for soccer, and on our first Saturday as New Englanders we
drove our kids to a match held behind St. Anne's Church in
Littleton. As fate would have it, Chris, Billy, and our son
Mike were all on the same team.
We knew no one in the area and Karen was determined to find
a doctor for our kids. She happened to approach Rosemary on
the sideline--she liked how Rose was cheering so loudly for
her kids--and, as Rosie would, she went out of her way to be
helpful to Karen. As they spoke, they connected partly
because our kids went to Catholic schools. Let me interject
here that Karen and Rose have not stopped talking since that
day--literally, just ask our kids. Also while they chatted
our daughters Jenny and Mandy struck up a friendship and,
although they don't burn through their cell phone minutes
talking like their mothers do, they have remained best
friends.
The mothers figured out during their discussion that we
lived near each other and Rose told us that she knew a short
cut. We were headed to see how our house was coming along so
we followed them home and pulled up to thank Rose for her
help. It was then that we saw our first glimpse of Billy's
tremendous charisma. Before we pulled away, little eight-
year-old Bill looked at us and said, ``Do you want to come in
for coffee? My mom made muffins.'' He then
[[Page S4384]]
glanced at his mother as if to say, ``Come on, of course were
going to invite them in--right, mom?''
The rest, as they say, is history. Our older boys also
became best friends. Drew became the younger brother to all
of the kids and they each had a hand in raising him. Kevin
and myself and even our dogs, Freckles and Maya, became
friends. They all grew up together as our families
intertwined.
When Billy decided to become a Marine, his parents, of
course, tried to talk him out of it. So did many others. No
one could change his mind. Finally, Rosemary asked me to talk
to Bill about his decision. She told me that he seemed so
committed, and that it was so very important to him that I
shouldn't try to talk him out of it. But, even though she
wanted him to follow his dream, she was hoping I could
convince him to change his mind. I tried but failed. He
listened--looking off into a place I could not see--patiently
and politely. We ended our conversation with Bill telling me,
``Don't worry Mr. Moore, everything will be okay.'' Billy had
made his decision and no one could change it.
On other occasions when I talked to Bill about things that
might be troubling him, he would listen intently but I always
sensed that he had figured out his own answer. He would
masterfully turn our conversations and I would walk away
feeling as though it was he who had lectured me. And, as if
he sensed my thoughts, he would give me his standard but
heartfelt response, ``Don't worry Mr. Moore, everything's
okay.''
Part of the connection Bill had with me, I believe, was
that my father was also a Marine. He was a proud member of
the First Marines and fought in World War II. He was at
Guadalcanal, the first victory for America in the Pacific
after suffering so many horrific losses. He fought at
Peleliu, which had the highest percentage casualty rate of
any battle in the Pacific, called, by some, the bitterest
battle of the war for the Marines.
Bill constantly asked me questions about my dad and wanted
me to tell him the stories I knew about his war experiences.
He listened, riveted, as I told him that of the 200-plus men
in my father's unit on Peleliu, only 27 returned unharmed.
His face wore a look of reverence as I told him my father
watched his closest friend, Sandy, die in front of him.
He loved to look at dad's medals, dog tags, and his old
green-covered book about the First Marines, The Old Guard.
The two of us watched a black-and-white video together that
my father had given me about the battle of Peleliu--Bill
could not take his eyes off of the television screen. Then
again, when the mini-series ``The Pacific'' was released, I
sat with Bill in our basement watching as it amazingly
replayed the exact stories that I had told Bill about my
father, including a scene where the soldier on whose life it
was based, on leave in Australia, slept--just as my dad had--
with other wounded and fatigued soldiers in a soccer stadium
where the bleachers had been removed and replaced by cots. It
also chronicled many of the horrific battle scenes. Bill, who
could never sit still, did not move a muscle.
On several occasions Billy said to me, ``I hope I will make
your dad proud, Mr. Moore.'' And, just prior to leaving for
Afghanistan, he asked me, ``Do you think your dad will be
proud of me, Mr. Moore?'' I told him, ``Billy, my dad is
already proud of you.''
I would like to share an email that Bill sent me this past
April from Afghanistan. It will give you a good sense of his
character, his humor, and what was important to him.
mr moore,
glad to hear from you . . . just headed off to bed, going
to be a long day tomorrow--and my pack is starting to get
heavy--as the afghans say in their broken English noooooooo
goooood hahah. its been warm and rainy the last two days. i
wonder what your dad would think of this war. probably a cake
walk compared to WWII; but all i can do is try and make him
proud. i bet he's watching down on all marines up there in
heaven with a big smile on his face every time we have
success. cant wait to be back home and have a relaxing day by
the moore pool after a good game of bball. hope works been
great and everyone's been staying out of trouble--i know its
probably hard for drew this day in age haha. anyways tell the
whole family i said hi, and tell matt to catch up with me on
email--i called and left a message on his phone the other
day. my beards nice and thick and the hair is nice and long
(im trying to give ole tom brady a run for his money haha)
ill keep in touch but write soon and often. its funny, last
year for my 22nd bday i was in the middle of losing 20lbs
being chased by dogs in the woods, now im turning 23 and
being chased by dogs in afghanistan haha . . . wouldn't want
it any other way
love,
Bill
This is a list of the Marine Core Leadership Traits.
Reading them, a vision of the man that Billy became appears:
Dependability
Bearing
Courage
Decisiveness
Endurance
Enthusiasm
Initiative
Integrity
Judgment
Justice.
Knowledge
Tact
Unselfishness
Loyalty
Certainly, these are all words that describe Bill.
To quote Albert Einstein, ``Life is not worth living unless
you live it for someone else.'' Joining the Marines was an
unselfish act, and a decision Bill made with certainty. Bill
was not just a Marine, but part of MARSOC, or United States
Marine Corps Special Operations Command--think Navy Seals on
steroids.
Its core objectives are to direct action, special
reconnaissance, and foreign internal defense. MARSOC has also
been directed to conduct counter-terrorism, information
operations, and unconventional warfare. MARSOC comprises
roughly 2,500 Marines. About 30% of those that attempt make
it through. If the Marines are the best of the best, MARSOC
is the best--of the best of the best. Kevin told me that when
Bill said he had to re-enlist to complete MARSOC, he started
to tell Bill all the reasons he might want to reconsider.
Frustrated, Bill finally told his dad he didn't need a ``Plan
B'' because he would not fail. He was right. Billy also was
one of only 1% of all Marines with a perfect score on the
required physical fitness test.
Some of you may not know that Bill volunteered to go to
Afghanistan ahead of his own unit. As a matter of fact, they
are still here in the United States. Due to an injury to a
soldier that had to return, there was a position open and
Bill volunteered to go early, ahead of his unit. That was
Bill, anxious to get going and positive he would make an
impact.
The following is a note sent to Mandy from one of Billy's
fellow Marines.
I worked with your brother in Miramar and I was the
Sergeant in charge of the division that he was assigned to. I
like to think I taught him most of what he knew as a computer
repair tech at his first duty station. I was grief stricken
to hear of his passing but please know that for a Marine as
dedicated to the Corps as your brother, there is no more
honorable way to leave us. I wish the best for you and your
family and am truly sorry for this tragic loss.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Sypole
One Christmas Billy gave me a Marine flag as a present. If
it hasn't yet come through clearly to you, Bill loved and
dedicated himself completely to the Corp. Bill, like my dad,
passed away from us taking his fierce pride in being a Marine
with him.
I believe we live our earthly lives simultaneously on two
planes, the physical and the spiritual. In the ongoing
struggle to overcome the physical and live more in the
spiritual, there are a few saints and mystics who succeed.
Advanced souls like Saint Thomas Aquinas, Padre Pio, and
Mother Teresa, to name a few, are on Earth to help others
rather than live for themselves. Some fail miserably,
succumbing to the earthly pull. Most of us live our lives
somewhere in between. I believe Billy, like the saints and
mystics, was one of the more advanced souls, one that
influenced others even if they were not aware. When you
looked into his eyes, it seemed like he understood things
that the rest of us couldn't comprehend.
C. S. Lewis said, ``You don't have a soul. You are a soul.
You have a body.'' Not many of us fully grasp this concept
while here on Earth, but I believe our Billy did. He knew
that this was just a temporary parking place for his soul;
his real home is in heaven. I think that is why he was so
impatient, why he couldn't sit still. Just maybe he was
anxious to get back where his vibrant, loving soul belonged.
Why he was with us for so short a time.
On the physical plane, Billy certainly had faults, like the
rest of us. But, as we know, even the Apostles Jesus selected
weren't perfect. I think Billy was a lot like St. Peter--a
bit impulsive, temperamental, impatient, and blindly loyal.
Most of you never saw that side of him, but it was there. Far
outweighing it, however, was his other side, loving and
caring, unselfish and kind, and extremely loyal--he was one
of the good ones. In his book The Imitation of Christ, Thomas
a Kempis wrote, ``The grace of the Holy Spirit always seeks a
meek and humble heart.'' If so, the Holy Spirit was a
permanent tenant in the heart of Billy Woitowicz.
We all loved and respected the Billy of the physical plane,
but to really understand the depth of him you needed to look
much deeper. I don't mean look so much as I mean feel. To
know him, you had to feel Billy's spirit, the energy that
exuded from him. Many of us don't slow ourselves down enough
to feel the soul of another. We are too busy with our day-to-
day. We waste our time idolizing athletes and movie stars. We
pay too much attention to what we own, how we look, what we
wear, and what others think of us. Bill cared nothing about
these things--he cared about others.
Those who truly knew Bill took the time to know his spirit
and they could not help but fall in love with his pure,
unadulterated soul. Although I miss the Bill that I could see
and hear and touch, it is the loss of his soul next to mine
that has tilted my world askew. I've heard many stories from
many people about Bill, including his family, my family, his
friends, teachers, and others that loved him. I can't tell
them all but would like to share a few that I hope you will
enjoy.
Billy always seemed to be in a hurry. He didn't like
staying in one place he was always talking and moving. More
than once he came into our house and, as I was engrossed
[[Page S4385]]
in a television program or movie, he would start asking me
questions. ``So, Mr. Moore,'' (he loved to begin his
sentences with the word ``so''), ``have you seen that show on
sharks yet?'' ``Mr. Moore, have I told you the story about my
buddy?'' He referred to most everyone, it seemed, as his
buddy. ``Mr. Moore, what do you think of the change in the
economy?'' ``Mr. Moore, I have a great business idea. What do
you think--Grilled Cheese, a restaurant where that's all we
serve. I'll let you in on it.'' And, invariably, he would
ask, ``So, Mr. Moore, how is work going for you?'' Now, that
isn't the type of question I typically get from a 20 year
old. But Bill was anything but typical.
Karen summed up Bill when she said, ``I guess what Billy
always gave most was his time. He always had time for you.''
My son Mike said, ``Bill always did what you wanted rather
than what he wanted, and when you talked to him he asked
about you. He rarely spoke about himself.''
Mike went on to say, ``There is a great debate about which
I've studied in many of my philosophy and psychology classes,
whether altruism in humans really exists. While to this day
there is no definitive proof for or against, Billy's life,
and the way he lived it, makes one hell of a case in support
of its existence.''
A close friend, Matt McElroy, echoed this theme in a
beautiful letter he wrote to the Woitowicz family. I would
like to read a part of it to you:
Bill was instantly likeable and I think I know why. I
noticed it in a conversation I had with him around Christmas
this year. He called me at school to see how I was doing and
soon our conversation turned into him telling me how much he
admired me for studying to become a lawyer and working hard
towards a career. As Bill went on, I remember feeling
immediately rejuvenated and energized--It is an incredible
feeling to be admired like that! I tried to reciprocate the
praise as much as I could because I was just as proud of him
for working so hard to achieve excellence in his own
profession. After thinking about our conversation that day, I
reflected on past experiences with Bill and finally realized
why Bill connected with so many people. I remembered Bill
admiring the way I played basketball and asking for advice on
how to get better; I remembered at the gym he would tell me
how strong I was and saying he wanted to look like me. Even
though I had seen Bill do these things before, I wasn't
mature enough to realize his emotional genius, but now I
know. Bill's secret was his ability to identify your best
traits and tell you what they were. What an unbelievable
gift! And he did it in such a genuine and honest way--never
insincere. It is so rare to see that in anyone, let alone
someone that young.
When Karen read Matt's letter she said immediately, That
describes Rose, Joe. Rosie, it is from you that he received
this wonderful trait.
Bill never wanted attention. Even though he could get a
discount at some stores because he was military, he did not
use it. This past December, I listened as he spoke on the
phone to a store from which he had ordered three new suits.
He ordered them in plenty of time for Christmas and New
Years, the last time he could wear them before shipping out.
But a clerk made an error and Bill was told the suits would
not be there in time. He spoke patiently trying to find a way
to make it happen. I said to Bill, ``Tell them you are a
Marine and headed to Afghanistan.'' He would not. I told him
to give me the phone, I would to talk to them. He would not.
The suits did not make it; they have never been worn.
Bill did not care about money. When Chris and Matt
discussed who would pick up a dinner check, the conversation
turned to how some people never offer to pay. Bill replied,
``People should not be so focused on money I like spending my
money on friends.'' When a close high school friend expressed
concern about how she was going to pay her college tuition,
he told her not to worry, he had plenty of money.
Chris, Matt, Mike, Matt McElroy, and a group of their
friends formed what they call the Power Group. They share
inspirational sayings and their own thoughts with each other.
Bill sent the following note to the group from Afghanistan.
hey chris, send this around to the power group if you think
it makes the cut-its short and sweet.
(1) perception is reality, no matter what you think
(2) word travels fast, so fast that what you say about
someone may travel faster than expected. and now your trying
to backtrack on what was said.
(3) life is short, even to usama life was probably too
short.
(4) if there's one thing i learned through this deployment
so far is that what's said can be taken back, but if you
don't take it back today, tomorrow may be too late.
(5) and finally, stressing over the small stuff only makes
things look fuzzy around the edges and the goal is harder to
accomplish.
anyways i thought i might contribute to the power group
because every day i strive to be looked at as a professional,
and more importantly be a professional.
eat your vegetables,
woita
Riding a dirt bike was Billy's first love. As a kid, he was
determined he was going to be a professional dirt bike rider.
He and Mike would often bomb up and down our driveway popping
wheelies. I would hear the whine of Bill's dirt bike in the
woods behind our house, it was the signal that Bill was
paying us a visit. Matt's laptop screen is a picture of Bill
popping a wheelie on a dirt bike in Afghanistan. Billy's
Sergeant, Danny Draher, told Kevin that they use dirt bikes
in Afghanistan to travel to remote areas. Each time he put
Bill out on point he'd just be gone, ahead of the pack, and
Sergeant Draher had to keep reeling him back in. He asked
Kevin where Bill learned to ride like that. Bill was a
natural. And, just like Bill, he was having fun no matter
where he was.
Bill loved to eat. Rose said that when he was an infant in
his crib, you could hear him from the other room making
sucking sounds, looking for food. She said he was that way
the rest of his life. He was eating steak at 10-months-old.
One of his favorite sayings was ``Eat big, get big.''
One of his greatest gifts was how he could build your self-
esteem. One night during dinner at our house he turned to
Drew and said, ``So, Drewman, are you going to play in the
NBA or the NFL?''
He was a people person. When Bill was home on leave you
would often find him in the Village chatting with people of
any age, asking them endless questions, never turning the
conversation to himself.
Kevin told me Bill loved hypotheticals. He would propose,
``Dad, if we drove by a dirt bike laying along the side of
the road every day for three weeks and no one claimed it,
couldn't you just take it? That wouldn't be stealing would
it?'' Another example. Matt and Bill were having lunch
together and they struck up a conversation with the man at
the next table. He turned out to be the co-founder of Safety
Insurance and he told the boys that he had cashed out and now
lived his life helping others. He said he was a deacon at his
church. Bill, who could be skeptical of organized religion,
posed a hypothetical. ``So, let's say that I steal something
and die. I learned that it is a mortal sin and if I die
without confessing the sin I go to hell. But, another guy
commits murder. He confesses his sin before dying and he
doesn't go to hell. Explain to me how that is right?'' Kevin
and Chris would sometimes tease Billy about his
hypotheticals. ``So, Bill, if that house was sitting empty
for a year could we just move in?'' Bill would see the humor
and laugh along with them.
Bill was a prankster. As he grew physically strong through
his training, he loved to wrestle Matt, Chris, Mike, or Drew.
We would be sitting talking or watching TV and, unexpectedly,
he would jump up, grab one of them, and try to wrestle him to
the ground. All the while, laughing and taunting, ``Let's see
what you got.''
My daughter Jenny had gym class with Bill when she was a
freshman and he was a junior. They were playing dodge ball
and one of the boys hit her in the head at close range with a
ball, which made her teary eyed. Billy noticed, sought out
the perpetrator, took aim, and hit him square in the face.
Bill the White Knight had defended her honor.
When Billy was learning to read from a picture book, the
kind with one sentence per page, his dad said that any time
he made a mistake he would close the book, go back to the
beginning, and start over. If he made ten mistakes, that's
how many times he would start again. If anyone helped him
pronounce a word, he did the same. Of course, Chris enjoyed
tweaking his brother by helping him with a word even if he
didn't need it. Bill would yell, ``You're messing me up,''
slam the cover shut, and start again.
Bill's Grandfather Labelle said, ``All I can say about him
as a child was that wherever he went he was on the run. That
kid never stopped moving.''
Kevin recounts another story. One hot summer afternoon when
Billy was around 13 years old, Kevin was taking the kids for
a drive. Just past the Village, Bill pushed a ballpoint pen
into the side of a hot can of Pepsi, and it sprayed everybody
and everything and made Bill roar with laughter. Kevin,
furious, pulled over and yelled at Billy to start walking.
Bill was laughing when got out of the car, unfazed by his
dad's punishment. But, after driving away, Amanda was crying
so hard for her brother, Kevin had to grudgingly go back to
pick him up. There stood Bill, with a big grin still on his
face, deciding whether he would get back in the car or not.
After he got in, they all laughed about Bill's antics and
being sticky with soda. They headed home to wash up.
On another occasion, when Bill was eight or nine, he was
shopping with his dad and as they were walking back to the
car there was a group of rowdy teenagers pushing and shoving
each other in the parking lot. As they got closer to the
teenagers, Kevin saw that they were watching them and it was
clear to him they were claiming the space between them and
their car. Kevin stopped and tried to move Billy to the
opposite side of him, away from the teens. As he tried, Billy
stopped, pushed back, and looked up at his dad and said in a
loud voice, ``Dad, you don't need to be afraid!'' While Kevin
thought he was protecting his son, Billy was looking out for
his dad. Kevin said he has never forgotten how fearless Bill
was.
Bill's Uncle Larry told me, ``If I had a dollar for every
time I heard Kevin yell, `Billy, don't!' I would be rich.
But, the amazing change in him from his childhood to
adulthood is beyond comprehension.'' His Uncle Al said that
even the growth in him from the time he started boot camp to
when he graduated from MARSOC was the difference between a
boy and a man.
We spend every Christmas Eve with the Woitowicz family. We
have shared our home
[[Page S4386]]
with them and our good friends the Roccos, Hutchinsons,
MacDonalds, and Decoteaus for many years. My son Matt
describes it as the best night of the year. Karen goes all
out decorating our home, everyone brings food, and Mr. Rocco
makes his phenomenal Christmas punch. We all have some
wonderful Billy memories tied to this annual celebration of
our Lord's birthday and the friendship shared by our
families. On a few occasions, Billy partook a bit too much of
the Christmas punch and entertained us.
Typically, these events happen at the end of the evening,
in our kitchen, as everyone is preparing to leave. One year
Billy was telling a story, gesturing with his hands as he
tended to do, and accidentally knocked our sugar bowl off the
counter. It shattered as it hit the floor. We all looked at
him. The expression on his face was priceless, as was his
response. ``I really don't know how that happened!'' As we
all burst into laughter he bent down and started scraping the
sugar into his hands in an attempt to clean it up. He
apologized to ``Mrs. Moore'' for days after that.
One of the best Christmas Eve memories was the year he told
his parents he couldn't make it home. Matt gathered all of us
in the kitchen for the purpose of making a toast to Billy. As
we raised our glasses, Billy burst through the kitchen door,
shocking the rest of us--especially his parents. This time
the priceless expression was pasted on the faces of his
parents. They were frozen, not moving, not believing--as if
he were a vision. Billy the magician had made himself appear.
This past Christmas, our kids gave Kevin, Rose, Karen, and
me a gift of a cruise to Bermuda. It was Billy's idea, and he
was determined to do it for us. He took charge and, in his
larger-than-life way, gestured through telling us how we
married folk could use the time away and should enjoy some
rest and relaxation. Billy the marriage counselor was taking
care of us.
As in past years, at the end of the evening, around 1:00
a.m., those remaining were in the kitchen saying good-bye.
Kevin and I had spent a good bit of time herding the boys up
from the basement toward the door. The kids had been joking
through the night about the song ``Teach Me How to Dougie,''
which they thought was funny. I was teasing Billy that I was
going to show him how to Dougie but he kept pushing me back
saying he would show me. He started dancing and we all
laughed as he Dougied in his tipsy state. Finally, I was able
to move Billy toward the door, but he stopped abruptly,
turned away, and started toward the door. Just as abruptly,
he turned around, walked quickly toward me and shouted as he
pointed at my chest, ``Good day, sir. I said good day!'' He
turned again and walked out the door. We couldn't stop
laughing for a long time. We tell this story often.
We have all been struggling to make sense of the loss of
Billy. On the day we received the news, as Rose hugged me,
she asked, ``Oh, Joe what are we going to do?'' My good
friend Kevin and I sat and tried to make sense of it and he
said, ``I have always been able to fix things but I can't fix
this.'' Kevin's nickname at the fire station is MacGyver
because he really can fix almost anything, but, although we
wish so much he could, this is not fixable.
I can feel the pain of his brother and sister, Chris and
Mandy, and my kids, his other brothers and sister, Matt,
Mike, Jenny, and Drew. I see the hurt behind the eyes of my
good friends Jay, Peter, Ralph, and Mark, and many others
that were so close to Billy. I see the swollen eyes of his
young friends. And I feel the unbelief and numbness as I read
the letters, e-mail, and texts from those that loved him.
Karen and I cant stop crying. But most of all, I can barely
endure the grief I see in Kevin and Rose.
Casey Mahoney, the daughter of Brian and Kirsten Mahoney,
and friends of Billy's family wrote a beautiful poem for
Bill.
God bless Billy for all of his love,
God bless the loving father above,
God bless Billy's family and friends,
We all pray that war will end.
Oh, Bill Boy, where have you gone? Why did you leave us?
What answer do I give your mother if she asks me again,
``What are we going to do now?'' And, Dear Lord our God, why
did you take our Billy away?
Maybe there is no answer, or at least not one we can
understand. Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote [paraphrased]. Above
all God destines us an end beyond the grasp of reason;
according to Isaiah, Our Eyes cannot see, O God, without your
help, what you have prepared for those that love you. Many
things are shown that are above the understanding of men.
As to your question, Rosie, I can only say that we will
endure through the love that we have for Bill, and he for us.
He is with you. He will be able to help you more now, where
he is, than when he was here. He loves his parents, he told
me that during one of our many conversations, and he wants
you to be happy. He respects you, Kevin. He will be with
you, Chris, when you move to Virginia. You know that he
will try to wrestle you to the ground, even from heaven.
He will guide your hand, Mandy, as you learn to become a
nurse like your mother. He is standing next to all of you
right now, right there, and he is looking at me saying,
``Dont worry Mr. Moore, they will be okay. I will make
sure of it.''
To my last question, I received a reply in a dream the
other night. God said, ``Remember, Joe, he was my son too.
And, although I did not call him home--that was his choice--
my heart ached, as yours does now, when I released him to
Earth at his request to be with and guide Rose and Kevin,
Chris and Mandy, you and your family, and his many friends.
That was his mission, and like everything he does, he chose
it enthusiastically.''
As to where Billy has gone, I am certain I know that
answer. He is sitting next to God our Father. His arm is
around Bill and He has a look of great pride on His face.
Bill is bathed in the pure love and light of God the Holy
Spirit. And, he is chatting up his friend Jesus, asking him a
thousand questions. ``Are those gates really made of pearl,
or do they just say that?'' ``Can I ride my dirt bike here?''
``Yo, Jesus, would you introduce me to Mr. Moore's dad?''
``Do I get to eat here, and do you have grilled cheese?''
``Dude, have I told you the story about my friend?'' And,
invariably, ``How is your work going for you, Jesus?''
The Blessed Virgin Mother Mary is hugging him while smiling
and saying, ``Welcome back, Billy, I missed you. You have
always been one of my favorites.'' He is teaching the
Cherubim and Seraphim how to Dougie. He is receiving a salute
from the greatest military heroes of all time--there are rows
and rows of them, as far as you can see, and the Marines are
out in front, just as in battle. Chesty Puller, the great
Marine, is shaking Bill's hand and pinning the highest award
given in heaven to soldiers who sacrifice their lives for
others, the Wooden Cross of Jesus.
When Jesus introduces them, my dad says, ``Yes, Billy, I am
very proud of you.''
And, he is wrestling St. Peter to the ground.
He is reading a poem that he wants me to share with you
now.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle shower of rain,
I am the field of ripening grain.
I am the morning hush,
I am the graceful rush,
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the star shine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I do not die.
He is whispering in my ear, ``Don't worry Mr. Moore.
Everything will be okay.''
I know it will, Bill. Eventually. But, before you go, there
is something you need to hear. And this time, please listen
carefully.
Your mom wanted me to tell you, ``I want you to know that
as soon as I could pull myself together, I had our family say
a prayer of gratitude to you because underneath my deep grief
is the tremendous joy of loving you for 23 years.''
I love you too, Billy, and I promise never to forget how
much you've meant to me.
Semper Fi [salute my friend]
``Good day, sir. I said, good day.''
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