Peter went for his 9 mo. physical and check up. He has grown so much this past month. He weighs 19 lbs. He now can pull himself up to a standing position and he walks around his playpen. He has two teeth on the bottom. He now eats fruit and cereal during the day. He likes to play with a drum he has that has a stick you can strike it with and make a musical sound. He likes to play with a little toy that has a bell on the top. He is now able to pick things up and go after things he sees he wants. He continues to thrive on the attention the other children give him.
“[Sits in high chair & sits up awhile by himself — handwritten addendum] Peter baby talks a lot now. He can crawl around the family room a little. He loves the children and likes to be wherever they are. Still no teeth yet. He is quite a big boy now, he wears a size 1. Of course everything goes into the mouth. His periods of sleep are shorter now and his periods of wake and playtime are longer. He loves investigating things around the room in his little walker. He goes everywhere just about and if he gets stuck one way he goes the other way.”
“Believe it or not…Peter is almost as big as Emilie. He scoots all around in his walker. Gets up on his knees and rocks. He loves the children and smiles at each of them. He is very easy going and he talks baby talk now a little.”
“Peter can now roll over. He has started to reach for things. He can hold a rattle and likes to sit in his infant bouncer-walker. He continues to coo and smile when talked to. He enjoys all of the children. He is quite a chunk and yet he is not fat.”
-Willison Family Newsletter
Peter Willison came into Emilie Willison-Bice’s life on July 8th 1984. Emilie is Peter’s fourth oldest sister. Here’s how Emilie’s life was changed because of Peter.
Peter Lee Willison
July 8, 1984 – February 25, 2014
You see that little dash right there? Yep, the one after 1984 and before February. That small, seemingly insignificant line is supposed to signify all that once was Peter. You see that small line? Well, that’s when I knew Peter. I mean, I don’t really remember when he was born or when he took his first steps or when he lost his first tooth. But what I do remember is the best friend that Peter was to me. Peter was only 1 year, 4 months and 1 day younger than me. So all the life that I remember has had Peter in it. I remember riding our Big Wheels and bikes in the front yard together singing at the top of our lungs “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” (which was later switched “99 Bottles of Sprite on the Wall” per my dad’s request), I remember making mud pies complete with poison berries, I remember sliding down our stairs with pillows and mattresses, playing obstacle course and going on wild adventures like catching bullfrogs and toads down by the creek. All of these memories…Peter was there. He was my sidekick…or I was his. But these are more than memories that I have with Peter growing up. You see, each moment I had with Peter helped to form and shape me into the person I am today.
I remember when we got pet ducks. We were probably in late elementary school or perhaps in middle school at the time. As the ducks began to grow I was somehow able to con Peter into building a pond with me for our ducks. We scoped out our backyard, found the perfect spot under a big tree, and began to dig. Well, we didn’t really think about all it would entail to dig a pond under a tree that had been there for 20+ years. About a foot down into digging we were running into knots of roots. Not just roots that could be pushed out of the way but roots the size of your biceps. But that didn’t stop us. We kept digging but the further down we got, the harder the soil was. We didn’t give up, we just began to expand the pond outward. We worked for weeks. We could picture the ducks loving life in this “pond”. At the prime of our digging we probably had a hole about a foot and a half deep and 5 feet in diameter. Well, needless to say it was a feeble attempt. After slaving away in our back yard for a month or two, we came home one day to find it filled in and covered with a bed of wood chips that my mom had trucked in earlier in the week. We were heartbroken but I think we always knew that it was not meant to be. But that didn’t stop us from dreaming.
Around this same age I remember Peter trying out for the basketball team at school. Peter LOVED basketball. He loved watching it, he loved the players, and he loved to play. When Peter tried out he gave it his all but you have to understand that this was during Peter’s awkward years where he still had baby fat and wasn’t that athletic despite trying. Sadly Peter didn’t make the team. He was devastated. Most of his friends were on the team. But rather than give up on the sport altogether, Peter would come home every day and practice. Every day after school I remember him being out side for hours working on the same skills until he had them mastered. Pick and roll, layups, 3 point shots, doing that thing where you spin the ball on one finger. I remember his determination. He was outside with a basketball for hours every day for the next 4 years. You see he never tried out for the basketball team again (even though he could have easily made it if he were to try out). He was truly brokenhearted that he didn’t make the team, but he still loved the game. He didn’t play to be on a team or to win anything or to even be recognized; no, he played for the love of the game.
There is no doubt that I wouldn’t be who I am without Peter Lee Willison. Peter taught me so much in that short dash of a life. He showed me to be carefree and imaginative, to never stop dreaming, to put all you have into what you’re doing, to always have a good attitude, to laugh and let others laugh at you, to believe in your talents and much, much more. More than that deceiving dash would lead you to believe. When Peter left this earth a piece of me left with him. I feel like there is a hole in me that can never be filled. One of my best friends is gone forever and I must learn to live without him. He is forever missed and this loss has not gotten any easier over time.
“Peter is getting to have quite a build on him. He sits (I should say jumps) in his little walker now. He gibbers all the time and can hold a rattle now and of course, it goes right in the mouth. He smiles at the children and likes the attention they give to him.”
– Willison Family Newsletter
Mark is Peter’s second oldest brother. He has declined to participate in this month’s blog post.
“Peter is growing at an extremely rapid rate, or so it seems to me. He recognizes people, smiles, loves to be where everyone is, and talks (baby talk) during much of his waking hours. He has adjusted nicely to our family and they to him, of course now it seems like we have always had ‘Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater’. ”
-Willison Family Newsletter
Natalie is Peter’s third oldest sister. She has declined to participate in this month’s blog post.
“Peter is getting to be a big boy now. He smiles and coos. He has started to blow bubbles and try to raise his head a little. He enjoys riding in the car.”
-Willison Family Newsletter
Kristian Is Peter’s second oldest sister. She’s showing her love for Peter by sharing the influence he had and continues to have in her life.
“Seven months later and it still seems unreal that he is gone.
I don’t specifically remember what it was like when my mom was pregnant with Peter but I do remember that each time my mom was pregnant I was excited for my new brother or sister to join our family. My first playmates were family, my first friends were siblings, and I think the people that had the most influence on who I am today are those that I saw every morning and every evening at home. Peter is one of those people.
When he was younger and I needed help with a school project he was excited to help me out. When he was an adult he was still always there to lend a hand when needed whether it was asked for or he just saw the need. Peter was a force, people were just drawn to him. He had such an imagination, it was a treat to watch him make a movie or to listen to an idea he had for an invention. I loved to listen to Peter’s stories, just telling us about a trip to the store or a day on the job, there was bound to be an adventure or weird situation that he’d be excited to share with us. He always had a way with words. Peter would speak his mind, sometimes that meant that he didn’t have a filter. Peter could say something about someone that was shocking and humorous, but true. If he didn’t like someone they probably knew it. If he was your friend you were lucky.
Seven months later and the emptiness is still there.
I am who I am in part because Peter was in my life. I love him. I miss him. Peter should still be here and in my life. I feel like when he left us, part of my future self died with him. He no longer has the same kind of ability to influence in my life. That hole cannot be filled but I will go on. When I am down and facing a trial in life I will try to imagine Peter putting his arm around my shoulders and saying ‘let’s do this.'”
“Peter seems to have adjusted perfectly to his new life. He enjoys being held and swinging in his swing. This past week he has started cooing and looking around. He tries to lift his head but it bobs back and forth still a little. He is a little over seven weeks old and weighs 11 lbs. 10 oz. He has a pacifier that he enjoys. He sleeps during the day in the bassinet in the family room. At night he and Mark and Jeromy sleep in the same room. Peter enjoyed his first outing at the beginning of the month and now goes everywhere and can sleep very soundly no matter where we go. In fact, the noisier the better. His last outing that was eventful was a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.”
– Willison Family Newsletter
Peter Willison ruined my life.
And I cannot thank him enough for that gift. He showed me what it means to be a confidant, a sympathetic ear, a devil’s advocate, a ball buster, a friend — A BROTHER!
Petey came into my life on July 8th, 1984. I don’t know if it’s just that I have a terrible memory or what, but I don’t remember much from that time. I don’t even remember making the video that is on the about page. Growing up we were basically a generation apart. The things that I remember with Petey were the stupid things, sharing a bedroom, waiting for the bathroom, making Easter eggs, working on the wood pile, playing games, going camping with the Kodak campers. I didn’t think much of it at the time but I love how we would come home after school and watch Batman: The Animated Series together. We wouldn’t talk about it, we would just hang out and do it. Just hanging out, that’s what I miss the most.
Petey always had a great attitude, earnest and caring. Just sincere, genuine. And he ALWAYS had a great sense of humor which would come along with his trademark laugh (that I miss so much). His laugh made me want to laugh, it was infectious.
There was a period of a few years that we didn’t talk. We both learned from that and I think that ultimately we both appreciated each other more because of it. We made sure to work things out between us after that.
As we got older the age difference meant less and less, and it caused an inverse correlation between how much we meant to each other.
He seemed to want to live life to the fullest, and would ask me “don’t you wonder what you are missing out on by not drinking?”. That just illustrated to me that he didn’t want to miss out on the things that life had to offer him. He always seemed to be going somewhere or doing this or doing that.
He told great stories. And even if it wasn’t a great story, just the way he would tell you about it, his exuberance would make you want more, like “yeah, yeah what then?”. He was a great ball buster. But he did it in this way that wasn’t mean, it was done with a smile and sometimes even with his laugh, and you just wanted him to joke around with you some more.
I remember talking with him on the phone for hours and hours, about the dish dish, or about some philosophical debate. And sometimes it was heated, and sometimes it was frustrating, or funny or just stupid. But there was something about it that always felt good — it was the investment that he put into it, which was really an investment into the relationship. He wasn’t afraid to put himself out there, to invest himself in others or to work on relationships.
I don’t think that I realized just how much he looked up to me until recently, when we were going through old pictures of him. There was this one when he was a kid and he had the same stupid hair cut that I did. I wish that I had realized that a long time ago.
But above all else, he had this mindset that was kinda like “what can I do for you?” except he was never really asking, he just did it. It was more like “let me get this” or “let me do this for you” or “I got this”.
I always thought later on down the road we would live in the same town again, and I would ask him every once in a while to move down here. I thought we were getting to the point where we were on solid enough financial footing that we could really start making dreams like that happen. I don’t think I ever told him, but in my phone it was Andrea (my wife) and him, that’s it. That’s how much he meant to me. Now he’s gone — he showed me good times, better times, fun times, he showed me love, and caring, but most of all he showed me what I’m going to miss out on without him — and now I’m ruined.
Thank you Petey for the joy and the memories you gave to me, for being you, and a friend, and my brother.
Petey — I know I’ve let you down.
To say that I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface, but I’m going to say it anyway.
Thirty years ago Peter Willison would have experienced his first month of life. He would have come home from the hospital to what would become known as “Willison Central”. He was exposed to the craziness of being a Willison, with eight other Willisons frantically running around him. I can just image him thinking “what the Hell?”, then “what’s (s)he doing, what’s going on now, why?”, and then finally “this is awesome, I can’t wait until I’m old enough to be a part of all of this!”.
Peter Willison came into Amy Willison Collyer’s life on July 8th, 1984. She is his oldest sister. She is taking this opportunity to tell part of Peter’s story.
“Grief never ends…but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith…it is the price of love” – Unknown
“Growing up in New York, most families I knew typically had 2-4 children; my parents had 9. Members of large families like ours often experience—as I did—the feeling of almost two families (two different generations) being raised by the same parents in the same home, so unfortunately I do not share many “growing up” memories with my younger siblings. So on July 8th ,1984 when my third brother, and the 7th child in our family was born, I don’t remember anything extraordinary about Peter Willison’s birth. How was I to know back then how truly important and special this individual would be in my life, what a tremendous impact he would have, and how my life would be so profoundly changed just by knowing him? The simplest things are what made Peter so special to me: his laugh, his contagious unique laugh. Being able to pick up the phone, call him and talk to him about ANYTHING—literally anything. He had a way of always making me feel important and making time for me. If I could change anything, if I could go back to July 8th, 1984 I would explain to my 9 year old self the tremendous blessing that I had been given that day—that I was allowed to experience the wonderfully extraordinary love of Peter Willison. I would make my 9 year old self understand the importance of drinking in every moment with him, enjoying every laugh, every ounce of Peter Willison. I would make myself understand the importance of making memories with him and I would encourage my younger self to grow close to him, closer than you think necessary…I would explain, “because he will be gone from your life far too early — before you are ready for him to be gone”. Growing up with Peter I look back and I wish that I had written down memories we shared, his stories, and basically our life experiences together. Because if I had I would be able to share them, and remember these experiences through Peter’s eyes, which is a far better view than any other I have experienced. When Peter was around things were just happier, life was better. Throughout his life Peter had the opportunity to live in a few different places, and I always noticed how wherever he lived, people always tended to gravitate to him; often it began because of his contagious laugh and anecdotes, and then they would stay and become friends because of who he was. He was a genuine, kind and giving person, often putting the needs of others before his own. He was never afraid of hard work, he loved his family and fought like Hell for who and what he loved. He was an optimist, always seeing the glass as half full. He took tremendous joy in the simple things, finding a great bargain, working hard at his job and on his house, having a couple of friends over for some poker and drinks, winning $10 on a $1 scratch off ticket. He was the best brother anyone could ask for — he shared his love unconditionally. He meant so much to me, more than words could ever express, for my soul aches daily at his absence. I regret not telling him more often how much I loved him. I regret not making more time for him to call him more often, so that he would know that I would always be there for him. He was a tremendously compassionate person who loved kids. Peter was 13 years old when I had my first child—a son, Collin. Collin grew up with Peter and saw him almost as an older brother. My girls grew up being adored by Uncle Peter and they idolized him. Out of anyone in my family Peter was the one person that I always knew loved me—unconditionally—our relationship was not overly complicated or stressful. Whenever Peter visited he usually stayed at my house, and it was during these times when some of my favorite memories with Peter were created. Staying up for hours talking about everything; my kids never could get enough of him. When it was time to leave it was sad and we missed him, we would immediately start planning for his next visit, but now he is gone…for what seems like forever and the sadness is a lot harder and the pain is a lot deeper. In writing this I kept asking myself how do you sum up a person’s life—but not just anybody’s life—this amazingly loved, extraordinary, one of a kind person’s life? Do we sum up the value of his life by those he left behind? Or by those who were touched by his kindness? Or by the lives he made better just by being in them? Well, what if that is not enough? I loved my brother more than I will ever be able to express. Part of me died the day that he died and every day since I have felt the devastation left behind by his death. Peter was wonderful. There is no one like him—nor will there ever be. He was a dreamer who loved life, and was always making big plans for the future. He loved life so much that he always saw the good in it. And THAT is how I choose to see his life, by the good that Peter found in life, how in tough situations he searched for the good. In death we are left with questions and regrets, but what Peter truly left for us was GOODNESSS—HIS GOODNESS. He did good wherever he went, he was a good person, and he saw the good in others. Peter inspired me to be a better person while he was alive. Now my brother is gone, he left this world too soon. His death has changed me, it has scarred me and has created a constant ache, a void or hole in my heart that will never be healed. If I could go back to July 8th, 1984 and talk to my 9 year old self I would say be grateful. Be grateful that you are blessed with the privilege of being able to call this extraordinary person your brother and family. Be grateful for the lessons Peter will teach you, and soak up every moment you can with him because 29 years will not be long enough.”
Thirty years ago today, a brand new baby boy, Peter Lee Willison, was born to Kenneth and Donna Willison. It was July 8th, 1984. He had four sisters (Amy, Kristian, Natalie and Emilie) and two brothers (Jeromy and Mark) waiting for him. He would spend the day in the hospital being adored, being fed, and pooping himself. He must have loved it! Unfortunately I can’t honestly say that I remember it. I wanted my mom or dad to say something but they are not ready to at this point. If at some point that changes I will come back and edit this post for them.
This Is My Brother Petey 
