Rage and Love: The Story of My Life

Chapter 7: Death and Difficult Times

September 16th, 1982

Thursday, 6:30AM

Billie Joe got himself out of bed at his alarm and got dressed for school. He even combed his hair. His Mom called of everyone for breakfast, and Billie finished getting dressed before walking out into the hallway. He peaked into his Dad's room, and decided to remind him that he loved him.

He bounced over and jumped onto the bed, landing on his knees.

"Hey Daddy, guess what." Billie said, wriggling under the covers next to his Dad, who smiled at him.

"What, bumble Bee?"

"I love you."

He felt his Dad's arm go around him.

"I love you too."

Billie smiled and looked up at him. "We have to write a story today about who our heroes are. Most of the boys are writing about soccer players but I'm gonna write about you, Dad. Because you're braver than any of those men who play soccer. I'll make you proud of me." He glanced up at his Dad, who had his eyes shut. His face looked peaceful.

Billie tilted his head. "Dad?" A chill ran through him, and that's when he knew.

He teared up and shook his Dad gently, then more frantically.

"Daddy!" Billie let him go, and Andy remained still. Billie crawled over and hugged him tightly, telling him that he loved him over and over.

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Mike had came over for breakfast like usual, and was sent upstairs to find Billie. He checked Billie's room first, then the bathroom. Eventually he heard Billie's sobs and ran to his parents room, finding Billie still holding onto his Dad.

"Bill, what'smatter?" Mike asked, running over. He took one look at Andy and knew he was gone. Mike screamed for Ollie until she ran in, and she instructed Mike to call 911.

He did, and then ran back to Billie, tugging on his shirt. "Let him go, Bee."

Billie's sobbing hadn't stopped. "No."

A crew of ambulance people ran in, and it took at least half of them to prize Billie from his father. He was transferred over to Mike, who held him tightly as he sobbed louder.

Andrew Armstrong was pronounced dead at 7:11AM.

The crew of ambulance carried his Dad out, but Billie didn't see them.

Mike whispered words of comfort into Billie's ear, but Billie didn't hear them.

All he felt was pain.

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Billie didn't go to school that day. Or the day after that, or the week after that. And Mike stayed with him.

Eventually, after a few months he had to go back. There was no point staring at nothing all day, either. And he was sure Mike had missed enough school.

Things had changed. Being the youngest of six, Billie's siblings seemed to never be home. His Mom worked three jobs to keep the family house, and she was always tired. She left at 5AM and came back when Billie was already asleep. He never saw her.

Mike was his safety boat. Ever since his father died, Mike and Billie had become very close. They were always together, and Mike seemed to understand everything in Billie's head, sometimes even when Billie didn't understand. Like last Saturday, when they were curled up together in Billie's bed, listening to the sound of the rain, Billie had asked Mike: "Do you think he'd be disappointed if I quit baseball?"

Mike had stayed quiet, and Billie was about to clarify that 'he' was his Dad, when Mike suddenly spoke softly; "No, I don't think so. He knows you hate it."

Mike always understood.

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*R.I.P Andrew Marsicano Armstrong, 16th of September 1982.*