A Message From Billy
On the first day after returning from the funeral of my nephew and godson, Billy (in May 2008), I couldn’t wait to get out in my kayak and just think. I launched just a little after 9:00 AM, and, because of the wind direction intended to head southeast (the wind was coming from the southwest). It’s always better to head into the wind on the way out so you have the wind helping you on the way back. Once through the surf, I was somehow drawn to the sea buoy, which is northeast from my launch point. I still don’t know what made me change my mind, but before going too far to the southeast, I turned the kayak and headed for the sea buoy. The rest is pretty interesting, and I told my brother and his wife (the parents of Billy) about it in this email message.
Marge & Bill, This might seem a little other-worldly, but I have to tell you what happened to me today. I was paddling my kayak, with no intention of going to the sea buoy because the winds were not conducive to going in that direction: they were southwest and the buoy is northeast, and it’s usually better to go onto the wind on the outbound leg. For some unknown reason, I decided after getting underway to go to the buoy to visit Ed (I scattered his ashes out there last August). When I got close to the channel, and was still about two miles from the buoy, I saw my third submarine surface and head in to Mayport (that's always neat). As I got closer to the buoy, a fully loaded merchant ship came out through the channel, and cut me off before I reached the buoy. That was no problem, but then a U. S. Navy ship that I had seen earlier coming out through the channel, dropped off the pilot past the middle buoys and picked up speed. I signaled to the Navy ship my intention to circle the buoy from west to east. She got closer to me than any ship has been out there, but did turn to the right (ESE) in time to allow me to pass in front of her, still headed for the buoy. It is very difficult to make out the numbers on Navy ships at sea as they are only different shades of the same color as the ships (gray). Now comes the interesting part: all the way out to the buoy I was praying for Billy and wondering why a just and omnipotent God would take someone as young as 49 from his family. Billy's age was stuck in my memory because I had told friends that he had just turned 50 in March, and then only later realized he had actually turned 49. Driving home yesterday, I kept thinking of Billy's age, and did the same thing while praying for him when paddling this morning. As I paddled out of the way of the Navy ship ( a Guided Missile Frigate), I looked back at her and saw clearly her number: 49. She was the USS Robert G. Bradley, FFG - 49, the only ship numbered 49 at Mayport. I couldn't help thinking that Billy had something to do with all this, and thought you might like to know about it.
I should explain that my nephew Billy died at the age of 49 after a very tough battle with cancer that started in his lungs and spread elsewhere too quickly. He left a young wife and two beautiful daughters, and his passing caused me once again to revisit the question of why such things happen to good people. Billy was a very special guy evidenced by the fact that his funeral Mass was concelebrated by eight priests and a bishop. Billy lived his whole life in St. Timothy’s Parish, and devoted much of his life to working with the kids of the parish. He was a coach, athletic director and eventually the commissioner of the Catholic Youth Organization (CYO) activities for the whole diocese. The lines of people for the viewing on the night before the Mass went from 6:30 to 9:30 PM, and again from 9:00 to 10:30 AM on the day of the Mass. Somehow I was under the impression that Billy had turned 50 this year, but eventually realized he had just turned 49. That was why I was almost obsessed with the #49, and the fact that Billy had not made it to his 50th birthday. The chance of my almost literally meeting the USS Robert G. Bradley, FFG - 49 at the sea buoy that day was so remote it was not even imaginable. But I did meet her there, on a day when I had no intention of paddling to the sea buoy. I should also add that because of the color of the numbers on the pointy end of Navy ships (as mentioned in my above email), it's a very rare happenstance when I am able to discern the number on any of them that I encounter in my area of the ocean (in fact, this was the first of only two such times), so it was somewhat amazing that the Bradley was so close and in exactly the right place in relation to the sun that I was able to see clearly the large 49 on her port bow. My faith lets me believe that God was letting Billy send a message that he was with Him, just as He allowed messages to be sent when the lone dolphin surfaced near my kayak in the area where I had spread Susan’s ashes, and the giant sea turtle came up to my kayak and just looked at me out at the sea buoy not long after I had spread Ed’s ashes there. If there is anywhere in this world one can feel closer to God than in a one-seat kayak at sea, I'm not aware of it.
(Click to enlarge)
