A Loving Tribute to My Husband, Billie Dean Baker

Born on this day in 1945 onto Lora V and Billy Jack Baker was a baby boy whom they named Billie Dean. His mother, Lora V, characterized her son as her deliciously happy baby with a loving spirit and compassionate heart.

But alas Billie Dean’s happiness and loving spirit would be challenged early on in his life. His father, for a host of complex reasons, was a transitory soul who consistently uprooted his family in search of something elusive and always just beyond his reach. Although the moves, sometimes three or more a year, taught Billie flexibility and adaptability, Billie Dean was a soul who perhaps needed a more consistent environment in which his love and compassion could flourish.

To Billie’s credit he always bravely accepted a move and a new school and new friends. But a hole was developing in his heart—a yearning that couldn’t be satisfied in a transitory world. Instead, his intellect, love, and compassion suffered for he needed to learn to survive instead; each time his father moved, he pushed aside his fear--time and time again; but as he matured the fear grew into an invisible pain and suffering—an emptiness of sorts. Billie didn’t know that all the moving had created a type of emotional abandonment, so he re-created his father’s repetitive pattern of elusive searching in his own adult life.

Billie married early, for that’s what men in his generation did. He and his first wife gave birth to a baby girl; but the Vietnam War was waging so he joined the military and served his country, for that’s what men in his generation did. Billie was shipped to southeast Asia; but the time and distance so early in his marriage changed both he and his wife. Meanwhile, the invisible pain and suffering was growing in his heart and soul.

Upon his return to the States, Billie kept busy, perhaps too busy, for that’s what responsible men did. He played the role of the dutiful husband, not knowing that he was playing a role. But Billie’s soul required more than playing a role. The couple had a second child, a baby boy. But alas, his first wife left him, never giving him a reason why. And in so doing, the hole and pain in his heart grew bigger. The not knowing was tortuous; had he known he could’ve changed, would’ve changed, for that’s what Billie does. He was emotionally abandoned once again. Uncertainty was growing deep in his heart and soul.

But Billie didn’t know, didn’t understand what was transpiring just below the surface. Now, the rift between his personality and soul was growing bigger; but Billie didn’t recognize that the whole where the pain and suffering dwelled was growing and festering. But Billie boldly married again, for that’s what loving men of his generation did. He opened his heart, gave his love; this marriage would bring another child, a baby girl. Alas, this wife, too, would leave him again never giving a reason why.

Perhaps these women didn’t understand the dynamic that was playing out in their lives. Perhaps the not understanding was too frightening. Maybe their leaving was the only choice they felt they had. Perhaps the issues were too complex that they didn’t know how to give Billie a reason. But losing two wives and three children crippled Billie emotionally. No one seemed to care or understand.

Nevertheless, the pain and suffering grew as did emotional emptiness; abandonment was a pattern that had been set into play early in Billie’s life, and he seemed destined to repeat a pattern he’d been given, despite the pain. For after all, pain and abandonment was all he’d ever really known.

Therefore, throughout the years, many misunderstood Billie. Billie simply was, for a host of reasons, incapable of being what others expected him to be. He could no longer play the roles—the roles didn’t fit and never did. He truly didn’t know how to play the role of the husband and father others expected him to and perhaps was never destined to.

So, many have tossed him aside, dismissed him, and even condemned him for not meeting their expectations—not knowing that the condemnation and judgment was ill-founded and only deepened feelings of abandonment and did little to improve the man or the situation.

But today Billie Dean turns 77. Like the Phoenix who emerged from the fire and ashes, Billie has transformed himself into a deliciously happy man with a loving soul. Over the years, I watched him struggle to understand himself as he embraced his past—overcoming his fears and doubts; I watched him accept his past and embrace the fact that he always did the best he could from where he was at the time—regardless of how anyone else perceived him. I watched him forgive himself and others, always seeking the higher ground. He’s embraced his uniqueness, and he is without a doubt a courageous man, and I wish others knew about his bravery and transformation.

Today, I’m grateful, Billie Dean, to be spending your birthday with you. This birthday seems significant not only because it marks 77 years but also because it marks the year of your rebirth and the year in which you became you.

I’m grateful that you opened your wounded heart and soul to me some 39 years ago. Thank you for showing me bravery, courage, forgiveness, and strength. Thank you for our adventures and misadventures. Thank you for your love! I'll love you forever, I promise!

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