Act I: Through a boy’s eyes

I am writing this biography from a more personal stand point. My hope is that some day, someone who has known Kathie Gilliam her whole life can contribute more. I am Kathie's son, Ryan. I met her in 1976 when I was born, and her time with me was regrettably short. My recollections are all from the views of a child. A child's view is skewed by fantasy, at least mine was. I was an over imaginative boy, borderline cursed with my inability to take my head out of the clouds. Only as I reach farther into adulthood, do I understand my mother more and more as a person. But she will always be held up high in my mind. She always is that cheery nurse that would come through the door at the end of the day, and have a smile on her face no matter what she had gone through. She struggled through life to be successful. But through it all, Kathie Gilliam was a success as a teacher of the true meaning of love and sacrifice. I will tell her story as I saw it, through my eyes, which back then, were merely child's eyes.
It was always us from my earliest days. My father, Ken, had left when I was born. My earliest memory is being visited by a group of people that were excited to see me. One was an overbearing, loud, red haired man. They called him "Dad"; I would eventually call him "Granddaddy". Grandma and Granddad were the clear leaders of the family. The family consisted of Robert, and Emogene Gilliam and their four children; Bob, Kathryn, Patricia, and Kimberly. Both Robert and Emogene were opposites, one was loving, and the other was strong. They both grew up in a small mountain town in West Virginia, where they had married before World War II. Robert would serve in the Navy, and eventually return to become a metropolitan police man. We would generally always live in the same area that they would. They would usually build a nice house, and we would rent something nearby. We often lived in Virginia, but for a time the whole family migrated to Florida. Granddad had decided Florida was too hot and then it was settled. We moved to Morgantown, WV. Though we would, over the years, bounce back and fourth between West Virginia, and Virginia. Morgantown was where most of my years with my mother would be spent. But before I continue I must speak of her siblings, as to better tell Kathie Gilliam's story:

Bob- Robert Lester Gilliam Jr, known as Bob, was the most charismatic of the family. Though he never really did what others told him, he always lived by his own rules, making him the black sheep of the family, as well as the most entertaining to have around. An attractive man, he had three wives and countless girlfriends. He often worked in the auto industry with highs and lows. During the highs he made money and was highly self sufficient. During his lows he would live on the couch.

Patty- A true redhead, through and through, Patty always looked like the Fairy Queen, represented in several fantasy books from the seventy's. Her long red hair and ability as musician, made her one of the greatest women any man could desire. She eventually became a nurse and married a living Christian Pharmacist, named Rob Sagan. Patty and Rob would strive to lead a Christian life and would have four children. They would be heavily active in the church and they always made sure that their children saw God as they did. Patty, though an excellent, and very successful nurse, would put her career ambitions aside to stay at home with her children and see to it they were raised properly. Rob worked long hours to see the family through.

Kim- Kim was only 13 when I was born. The youngest, and still yet to become an adult at the time I was born, I remember her as a teenager, playing in bands, mostly folk music like Patty. As she got older she would bring a boyfriend around named "Brad". The way she would say his name, "BRAAAAADDD", just told you how much she was in love with him. I always thought I was related to Brad. He was such a shoe-in for the role. It was no surprise when they became married. Brad was into computers from the beginning, and he road the wave of the rising technology to considerable success. Kim would be a stay at home mom to her three children. She would eventually return to college to major in music, as music was her obsession. She often, throughout her years, led church services with her bands.

So with this very minimalist background of the family members, I can tell this story. These people were the players on our stage. I thank you for your interest and hope I can tell it well...

Act II: A Single Mother

Here is our story……

A single mother must always provide for her family. She often does it alone, especially when she wishes to sever all ties with the father of the child. Independence is not an attribute; it is a necessity in this case. Kathie had, all her life, dreamed of being a performer in theater. She had honed her talent, and had a miraculous singing voice (only signatures can be heard now. but they will have to do). She wished to attend VCU to major in theater. It was her father's well considered decision, for her to major in something that would keep her stable. This would come in handy, as it wasn't soon after that, that she would become pregnant with me. So she was always a performer, s singer, and a dreamer, but in the real world she was a nurse. Though she never truly loved the profession, she did the best she could. So everyday she would put on that white uniform and head off to work. I would spend many hours with babysitters. An interesting point, you can learn a lot by spending time with other family's growing up, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. But everyday, when the usual hour of her arrival came, I would sit by the curb, stare out a window, or climb a tree, and just watch the cars, waiting to see her light blue, Ford Pinto roll in. Sometimes I would wait for as much as an hour. But whenever she arrived she was always happy to see me. This was how we lived for years. She would work as hard as she could, and I would live in my own little world, blissfully unaware of the hardship and sadness she would carry with her. She, like many single mothers, fought for time to spend with her son, with herself, and actively pursue a significant other to make the family whole. This is never easy. It can take years. Sometimes more years than one is prepared for. Often you need to accept the fact that the nuclear family that you dream of will never happen. But Kathryn Gilliam was determined to not fall to pieces.

Act III: Misery Loves Company

Kathie had several nursing positions. The hardest of those was taking care of terminally ill babies, and the most interesting, was as a home health nurse. In this position she would meet Cjanti (pronounced SHAN TEE). Cjanti was a wonderful Indian woman. She was a ray of sunshine if there ever was one. I don't even remember her last name. But she had cancer, and during her last days, she became my mother's best friend. For a time, we would visit Cjanti often. They would talk for hours. I never really knew that Cjanti was terminally ill and would soon pass away. Maybe I was told and it just never registered. At any rate, Cjanti’s health declined and she would abruptly pass away, leaving my mother in a great state of sadness that would be hard for her to recover from.
We had spent years living in a trailer park, in Morgantown West Virginia, of all places. It was always meant to be temporary. But we never could rise out of that area. We knew some good people that lived there, and several of low class. My mother wanted to leave this area so bad. There were countless complications that came with living here. One, of many, was the fight that I would encounter with the neighborhood bullies. All of this prompted her to remove me from the local elementary school and place me in a school that was situated in a better part of town. This worked out as well as possible.
We had occupied our time raising birds. At one time, I counted over 20. We bred cockatiels. This was a rather fruitful endeavor for us, for the two cockatiels that we had bred many. At first, we were inexperienced, keeping the rejected babies in shoe boxes and raising them on our own. The attachment we grew on these particular birds was soured when they would ALL most inevitably pass away. A mother bird always knows when a hatchling is not going to make it. So she starves it to death. After the loss of two babies that we nurtured against the laws of natural selection, we decided to let the mother bird have her way. So from time to time, we would remove a corpse from the nest. My mother’s most favorite bird, was not one of the cockatiels, but was an African grey named “Jade”. Jade was very vocal. Once, when Bob was living with us, Jade drove Bob to insanity while he was trying to sleep on his bed/the couch. He was so inclined as to chuck a throw pillow at the bird in mid sqwauk. However his aim was poor that day and he smashed the stereo instead. Jade was fluent in a few regular sayings:
“Ryan quit it”
“Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack”
And “(expletive) off”. You were in trouble when you heard that one.
“Ryan quit it” was the birds favorite saying. It comprised 90% of her noises. She would sqwauk “Ryan quit it” and then swoop down from my mothers shoulder and bite me. But aside from Jade, we had two lovebirds (they say when one lovebird dies, the other one follows out of sadness. Ours however had three girlfriends die and did just fine), canaries, parakeets, a hyperactive boxer named “Alison”, and a white cat named “Roonie”. Our home was a wild kingdom. Many visitors could not tolerate all the animals. But we did just fine.
Kathie would actively pursue God and Religion. Her search for religion trailed through Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jehovah’s Witnesses. The Jehovah’s Witnesses were a massive part of my mother’s life from 1984-1986. Though not too long in hindsight, as a boy, it felt like it was much longer. Perhaps it was her interest in the then pop sensation Michael Jackson. She was ultimately converted by a patient named Karen Voleman. The churches strict teaching would be the forerunning factor in much conflict and turmoil that would plague the whole family for the time that we were witnesses. The constant meetings, and field service, kept a looming presence over our lives. But one day, March 23rd 1986, the day after my much ignored 10th birthday, Kathie would put her foot down and leave a huge district convention meeting. This was interesting as she was baptized at this meeting, and a huge interview with her was conducted in front of over 1000 witnesses. She was their yearly success story, their convert to inspire new members. But it was at this event, that she would walk away. Over the next year her interest in the religion would decline and an interesting twist would occur in her life, that would change things forever.

Act IV: Our Nuclear Family

Roger Lee McDonald had been my mother’s friend since around 1985. He was a young, handsome, homosexual man whom she would always turn too. He never expecting anything from her. He was always there for her. He was her gay friend.
One night, after about three years of friendship, I had caught them kissing in the living room. It wasn’t long before Roger was in a relationship with my mother. Eventually they became married. Because of the heavy acclamation of such a lifestyle change, it’s often hard for me to recollect all the details from this time in my life. There were just so many issues due to the change. There was almost too much to get used to. But still Roger worked his way in the best he could. He would eventually convince my mother to sever all ties with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. This was a move that gives Roger unconditional forgiveness, for he mended the huge void that religious episode had made between my mother and the rest of the family. Slowly, things returned to normal, well “normal” was a slack term in our household, but it will due for story telling purposes.
They began several renovations around the trailer, for we were going to leave that old aluminum box life forever. We already had our house picked out, in a more decent part of town. Roger and Kathie had a plan of action to make a life together, as odd and bizarre as their relationship seemed. For through it all, Roger, was always her gay friend, as well as her husband.
My mother had become pregnant shortly after she became married to Roger. This pregnancy would be short lived. I am not sure of the facts when I say this, but I believe the baby was two months along. She would miscarry during a visit to Roger’s parent’s house in Bellington, West Virginia. The drive back home would be long and agonizing, followed by a hospital stay. She would recover from this in time.

Act V: May 23, 1987

I have described my life with Kathie Gilliam, in a very abbreviated tale. There were always many good times. We always had lots of fun. There are countless stories that occurred in our years together. There will always be many to tell. But this one part of the tale I rarely write about. This part is the recollection of our last day together. This would be the final chapter in Kathie Gilliam’s life, and it’s about time I tell me side of it…..

It was a Saturday in May. The weather was lovely and we were planning a trip to Bellington to see Roger’s parents. This would be the first time since the miscarry. We were all farther along now. I would sometime refer to Roger as my “Dad”. We had a new dog named “Liza”. My old friend from first grade, Eric McMillan, and I were best friends. The night before we had rode our bikes around the neighborhood. We stopped by the clubhouse for the Woodland Terrace Trailer park. Eric decided he needed a soda. But when he paid the soda machine it yielded no cans. We thought this was oddly amusing. We would kick the machine and call it names. Eric would get the not so smart idea and take a rock to smash the machine. However the rock he chose was so huge he could not throw it properly and it missed the machine, crashing the clubhouse picture window. This was a SERIOUS offense. We sped off that night. We returned to my place and pretended nothing happened. I would scout the clubhouse the next day and determine what the damages were. I was stopped by Bessie, the landlord immediately. As it turned out, Eric was spotted by someone who knew him. She asked if the other boy there was me and I told her “No”. But she said the Eric was in big trouble and she was going to contact his parents immediately. At this point, I became scarred and had to do something. When I went home I told Eric immediately. He knew he was going to be in serious trouble. Our solution was that I would convince my mother to let Eric come with us to Bellington later that day. It wouldn’t solve the problem. But it would prolong Eric’s inevitable punishment. After a little back and forth it was agreed that Eric would come with us. We would take Roger’s Dodge Dart, a huge metal boat of a car. A 70s cruiser that was tan and could fit many people. I remember us preparing for the trip. I remember approaching the car, to sit behind my mother. I had a weird pet peeve back then. I never liked being dirty. I avoided dirty things all together. I would obsessively wash my hands and smell them to make sure they smelled clean. When I saw the part of the car that I would have to enter to sit behind my mother, I was discouraged. There was mud on the ground and a tree was pushing against the window with dirty, wet, leaves. So I sat behind Roger instead. I cringe when I realize that that odd behavior of mine (which would be cured quickly during junior high football) saved me from a terrible fate, that I would eventually see befall my best friend. So we loaded into the car. Eric braved the dirty side and there was a joke made at my expensive, a light joke, nothing heavy. The dog came with us. Then we were off. Eric breathed a sigh of relief. I was too excited. We were going to Roger’s family’s house, and Eric and I were going to be able to play together. It was going to be great. We filled the trunk with Transformer toys. It was such a happy day.
We stopped by one of Roger’s friend’s house along the way, and stayed for a while, but broke off as soon as we could. It’s weird when you recall certain things. It’s weird how the slightest thing can change a timeline. It’s disturbing how all of us spin on a constant axis and we are always at the mercy of other people. As we rode into the wooded countryside I began to fell asleep. I would awake only twice. The first time I awoke we had hit a bump in the rode. I was very groggy. Eric went straight back to sleep. I looked up from and she turned and looked at me. For that five seconds it was only me and her. She smiled. She was happy. She was proud to be where she was, finally, after all these years. I would go back to sleep. Interestingly enough, the second time I awoke I would watch the road. I stared at the road for about one minute and then I saw it. It was another Dodge Dart, the same year as Roger’s. Strange that it was the exact same type of car, being that it was already a relic at that time. It was green. It was going too fast, way too fast. It was a “T” intersection. Roger had what you would call a “perfect right of way”. It was so perfect that you never slowed down. It was obvious that everyday people drove by it, without even noticing. But today was different. An old man was behind the wheel of this car, and he was having a stroke. By the time Roger had caught on, it was too late.
I wish to spare the details of what happened afterwards. A car crash is a horrible thing to experience. It was a scene that was pieced together in surreal fashion. The witness was actually our former next door neighbor, which I always found an odd coincidence. Roger would grab my leg and scream “Please God have MERCY.”
Sometimes it’s not God’s will to have mercy. You don’t hate him for it. You just except that there is a plan for everyone. So, with one sentence from the Barbour County Sheriff, we knew that she didn’t make it.

Epilogue

So in one second life can change for anyone. A son can lose his mother. A boy could get put into a coma for three months. A husband could lose his wife. Kathie Gilliam McDonald would pass away instantly on May 23, 1987. There were no last words. There was only a smile. It was if she left the room, with every intention of returning. Roger and I were spared with minor injuries. Eric was badly maimed and in a coma for three months. He seemed to look the worse of all the victims, but he was spared in the end. The last time I saw him I was 18 years old. He had become a man, and his injuries to his face had fully heeled. The dog was found a week later, unscathed. But Kathie Gilliam had departed this world, but we will never forget her.
I would leave Woodland Terrace forever. I went to live with my grandparents. It was a more stable life, but there was always the weight of heavy loss. We built a nice house in the country, and I would grow up in a different life, in a town called Warrenton, in the State of Virginia.
There are many rooms and places that extend from the heart, to the real world. Let this place here be where you can always find Kathie, in this new world. Let her be a reminder to you that you are loved no matter how hard you fall. Let her voice remind you that there are people who have lived full lives and that they will be waiting for you someday, when the time comes.

Ryan Gilliam
September 24th 2007