No More Hero

Everyone has a hero. Some are baseball stars and some are movie stars, but not mine. Mine was never in a movie and he never hit a game winning home run. Mine never was on a trading card or in the spotlight. My hero wasn't even bold enough to dream that big. My hero is my father.

My hero was born in Atlanta, Georgia on William Street. Yep, the same one that you see when you ride down I-75 south just before the huge turn in the road as you come into the city. His father was not yet a WW II veteran, but soon would be. His father fought in Korean, and from my understanding was at the Frozen Chosen Reservoir. The only childhood story I remember my father telling of himself was when he stowed away in the back of Pa's cab. He said that Pa gave him one of the worst spankings he could remember.

My hero had typical teenage years with alot of drinking and fighting and women. He told me several stories about his teenage years and early adulthood. Several of them involve my uncles and some type of alcohol. His favorite story to tell was when he would drag race his 1956 Chevy in Dallas, Ga at the old drag strip. He had some type of transmission where he didn't have to shift from 3rd gear to 4th gear.

My hero married his first wife and had two sons, Alan and Mike. When the boys were still very small, my father and his first wife divorced. A few weeks later, my father was drafted into service to the United States Army.

My hero was branded a murderer and a baby killer by the people of this country. The very same people whom he was drafted into service to fight for, were the same people who mistreated him when he got back home. He never told me of the bad things that he saw while he was in Vietnam, but I could tell in his eyes that he relived them every day. He did however, tell me of a time when he and his Commanding Officer, a man whom he had wisely befriended, went to Amsterdam for R&R. He hooked the CO up with a few women and his life in Vietnam got a whole lot easier. My father served his tour in Vietnam and was was shipped back to the States to Fort Drum, NY. He applied for a civilian job working on base, but was turned down. He found out that he was turned down for someone with less experience. He told the employer that he just got back from Vietnam and didn't have job. The employer told him, "Well, you came back didn't you?" My hero was even turned away by the very people who were supposed to help him. In a bar in Upstate NY is where my hero met his 2nd wife.

My hero entered into his 2nd marriage and had 2 more boys, Billy Jr and Me. I don't remember must of their time together. I can remember things that, at the time, seemed like they weren't right but I just didn't know why. The memories of Vietnam were diffictult for my father to get a handle on. Now I know why he was the way that he was. My father drank alot. I mean alot. I don't have a single early memory without a beer in it. He drank alot. I have some memories of him slamming a chair into the cabinets and refrigerator. I remember sleeping on the couch one day and someone threw an ashtray and it broke over the couch and peices of ashtray and cigarette butts covered me. I remember when my mother left my father and we had to be hidden at my aunt's house. I remember my father going into rehab and cleaning up so that he could see us kids again. I remember another time when my father told me to pack my bags, he was leaving and I was leaving with him. I sat in the bedroom with my brother and told him goodbye. We cried together and I left with my father to stay in a motel for a couple of days. Their marriage ended when my grandfather was killed in a farming accident. They tried to keep it together for us kids, but we were just miserable.

I moved to Georgia when I was 11 years old. I lived in a one bedroom apartment with my father. I slept on the couch and our dog Jack would sleep with me. My father was always working and tried his best to give me everything that I wanted. He was still drinking, but that never made us go without food. I had been in Georgia for a few years when Granny and Pa died. They were dad's mother and father. They died within a few months of each other, so the pain must have been horrible for my father. I never saw him shed one tear! He held it all together for everyone else. He did his grieving in private.

I have several great memories of the early years in Georgia. We went to hunting camp several times. He played doctor one day when I flipped a 4-wheeler and gave myself a concussion. He was so happy when my brother decided to move down here. He finally had all of his boys in one place. It was the happiest he had been in a long time. I eventually grew up and joined the Marine Corps. I was waiting to go to boot camp when 9-11 happened, and he told me that I would be going to war. He did not want me to see the things that he saw. I was too stubborn and on October 20th, 2001 I left for Parris Island, SC. The next time I saw my father was when I graduated boot camp. It was the happiest day of my life. On January 25, 2008 I shook my father's hand, not just as his son, but as his brother. His brother in service. It was the happiest day of my life.

My hero then entered into his 3rd, and last, marriage. He had finally found the woman of his dreams, even though he was now 57 years old. He inherited 5 more children. He was just as much a father to his step-children, most of which were grown with their own kids, as he was to his real kids. They loved him like he was their only father.

I remember coming home a couple of times during my 4 years, but I'll never forget the trip home to see my father undergo surgery and chemo-therapy. I had gotten a telephone call from my father and he told me that he had some bad news. He had colon cancer. They thought the had found it in time, but they didn't know. He eventually beat that cancer, but a few short years later, he announced that he had lung cancer. He had a lobe of his lung removed, and more chemo-therapy. During all of this, you would have never known that anything was wrong with him. He never got sick, he never complained, and he never asked for any help. And on top of all this, one of my father's brothers died in North Carolina. So he had the trip to the funeral, cancer and all.

Just 5 months ago, my hero called all of his loved ones together to give his last announcement of bad news. The doctors had found 5 spots of cancer on his brain. It was not operable. This would be the cancer that killed him. He was now 100% disabled from the V.A. and did not have to work. The official reason, Agent Orange Disease. My hero was a hero until the very end. He never complained about anything, not once. He never asked for any help, even though he was no longer capable of moving himself anymore. If he wanted to go to bed from his chair, he had a lift that we had to use. He was finally bed-ridden about two weeks before he died. Just moving hurt him so bad, that he couldn't leave his room. I stopped by almost daily to talk with him and even went hunting with him. He hunted from his bed while I was in the woods. Two days before he died, I vistited him and he did not wake up very long. He told me hey and he loved me. I told him the same. That was the last words that we would ever speak to each other. I kissed him on the head and told him I would see him on Saturday.

I got a call from his wife Saturday morning saying that I needed to come to the house. My father wasn't breathing well and the hospice nurse was on her way. I made it there and realized immediately that he would not make it much longer. I called all of my brothers and told them that they needed to get there as fast as they could. Two of them were out of town and did not make it there in time. I kissed my father on the head and went outside and waited for him to die. At 10:50 am on Saturday, October 4, 2008 my hero, Billy Wayne Cain Sr., died of complication from brain cancer at the age of 64.

My hero was buried with full military honors at the Gerogia National Cemetary on Knox Bridge Hwy. Taps was played, a 21 gun salute was provided, and doves were released to honor my hero. You see, when you die, you are no longer a baby killer and a murderer. You are a hero. And my hero is located in section 1, row 16, stone #1681.