DATE: Friday, April 18, 1997                TAG: 9704180054

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Violence Steals Young Lives

SOURCE: BY ALLISON GRAY, SPECIAL TO TEENOLOGY 

                                            LENGTH:   61 lines

PHILLIP'S JOKES COULD MAKE ME LAUGH WHEN I WAS DOWN

I MADE A promise to myself that I'll never forget Phillip Bell.

Phillip once was my boyfriend. He always will be my friend.

Phillip was brutally murdered Oct. 27 at age 18. To some people he is just another young African-American man dead. As for me, I've lost that smile I used to catch as Phillip rounded a hall at Churchland High School in Portsmouth, the jokes he used to tell to make others smile, the images he could capture on a sheet of loose-leaf paper.

Phillip dreamed of becoming a cartoonist or an architect. He loved to draw and he hoped to use his talent to build a career. He planned to graduate this year, then head to the Army first, then maybe Hampton University. Phillip already had his departure date.

Phillip was not perfect, but who is? He had his faults; he struggled in school at times. But Phillip had those plans and dreams.

Now, because of one person's ignorance, Phillip's dreams never will become reality.

It hurts to know that.

When I think of what Phillip could have been and what he was robbed of, different emotions course through my body. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm hurt. I miss my friend and the character impersonations he used to do to make me smile.

I get by knowing that God - not my anger or the vengeance of others - will make things right.

Phillip Bell was loved deeply by many people. I was one of them. Phillip and I dated for five months. We broke up in June. I didn't want to speak to him after the breakup, but he spoke to me - frequently. He'd meet me outside of class or in the halls. He'd chat; he'd joke. He wanted us to be friends. I couldn't resist. Now my friend is gone.

It's difficult to accept that loss. Just going to school sometimes aches. I was so used to bumping into Phillip in certain places; it's hard to visit those places and not see him. Even chemistry class became too emotional. The teacher would return exams and assignments, and Phillip's papers would be mixed up in the pile. I would cry. I had to be transferred to another class.

I thought I'd feel better if I just shoved all of Phillip's letters and memories into a drawer and forgot about him. It didn't work.

Then, one day in February, I was sitting in my room thinking about Phillip. I pulled out the letters he had written to me. I came across a letter that I've read many times before. The words are the same, but for some reason, they made me think more clearly.

``Allison, no matter what happens, I want you to never forget me and to love me for eternity,'' Phillip wrote, ``and everything else will just fall into place.''

Never forget me. . . .

Recently, I set up an area in my room for Phillip. It's an area where I keep all his pictures, drawings and letters. I even have some of his teddy bears. Now, whenever I need someone to confide in, I turn to that area in my room and pour my heart out. Sometimes I laugh; other times I cry. It doesn't matter, though, just knowing he's listening makes it just a little bit easier.

I'll never forget you, Phillip.

After reading this, I hope others won't forget you either. ILLUSTRATION: Phillip Bell

Send Suggestions or Comments to webmaster@scholar.lib.vt.edu