Note: The top picture of my father on the left, when he was a little boy, was sent to me Father's day of 2011 by a very kind person and someone I didn't even know. The original picture is only about an inch high and wide - it was something my Grandmother gave me long ago. The picture is sepia tones and looks to be made in a photo booth. I had added in with his other photos on this page. This gentleman took that picture and did a lot of work on it - made it in color and sent it to me for my dad on Father's day. I am eternally grateful to him - it was such a surprise and a very welcomed gift. I just love it!

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William Sherrill Brantley, son of Lawrence Sherrill Brantley & Ossie Mae Ansley/Brantley. He was their first child. He was born and raised in Atlanta, Fulton County, Georgia. He also was known by many of his friends as Windy.

My dad had only one sibling, a brother. Marvin, who was born in 1925. He passed away 2/18/2010. My Grandparents also had a stillborn infant daughter in 1923.

Windy married my mother, Polly Daphne Smith on August 2,1941. I was their only child. They divorced on 5/15/1945, when I was four months old.

Windy spent many years in the Merchant Marines. He joined sometime during World War II and stayed in until his death. He was often out of the country and out to sea.

My dad died of a pancreatic disorder. He had been out to sea, had come into port in New Orleans, Louisiana when he suddenly became ill. He went to the base hospital in New Orleans and surgery was performed that same day. He was gravely ill afterward. After being notified of his condition, my grandparents immediately made reservations on the morning train to New Orleans, the night he became ill. But my dad died early that next morning, before they could get there. Instead of going to see about their son, they brought his body home, back to Atlanta.

My mother held strong, life long grudges - most unfounded. Because of her and my stepfather, I never got to know my father or my father's family - and she rarely let him see me. He died when I was 9 years old. I was told one afternoon that he died and when I started crying - I was yelled and cursed at and told to stop. I was sent to school the next day, just as though nothing had ever happened.

So I always had to think of & love my father without talking about him. If not, it was a war.

My only physical memories of my father was seeing him two times - when I was about 4 or 5 years old. Those tiny memories are very precious. They are more like two flashes in time. I have held on to them all these years - that is really all I have beside some pictures. That, and knowing that he loved me - his brother and parents told me that many times.

I was 17 and married before I ever went into my Grandparents home. This has left a life long lack of attachment to my father's other children and even my father's parents. Every effort was made to put this back together....but it just doesn't work that way. So many memories that I was never a part of. So pretty much the only thing I have in common with them is that I am my father's child.

My paternal grandparents passed away some years ago now, and my father's brother, his only sibling, ten years ago (2010), so there are few answers left to find. I quit looking for any answers some years ago now, as I felt like I had found all that I could find, considering all the circumstances. People who knew the answers had either passed away or were very unwilling to help me.

The years are so very many, now..... Seems like forever ago. I have spent most of my long life without my father. It has been a life long journey, with many obstacles.

I have had to try to piece my father's life together, with documents and a very few people willing to help. There were also many not willing to help. Lots of secrets in my mother's family - there were things that just weren't talked about. Much that was, wasn't quite the truth. Also had to wade through the mountain of untruth's about my father, my mother pounded me with, all of my life.

I am a firm believer that you can never find peace until you find all the pieces. I do have some peace and satisfaction, but all the pieces will never be there, no matter what I do. There are just so many things that I will never, never know. It is just a fragmented puzzle with many missing pieces. I went against the tide in my family and I paid a dear price just to find the truth and to be with a part of my family that was excluded.

There is a great emptiness from never knowing my father and never having him in my life. The little girl in me misses him terribly. So does the grown up me.

Please, please, never do this to your children. It is so unfair. It is also so very painful to live through. And....that pain never goes away. It just never, ever goes away.

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This is my favorite poem. It always speaks of Daddy, my granddaughter, Windy and my precious little dog, Annie , when I read it.

In the rising of the sun and in its going down......

I think of you.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter...

I think of you.

In the opening of a bud and in the rebirth of spring....

I think of you.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer...

I think of you.

In the rustling of leaves and the beauty of autumn....

I think of you.

In the beginning of the year and when it ends.....

I think of you.

When the moon is full of light and the stars twinkle bright.....

I think of you.

When I am weary and in need of strength,

I think of you.

When I feel lost and empty at heart,

I think of you.

When I have joys I want to share,

I think of you.

So long as I live.... you too shall live,

As you are always a part of me......... as

I think of you.

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My dad's ship, the S. S. Hermis was sunk during WWII and my dad was in the water for a while. He was fortunate as he was rescued by another ship. Many men lost their lives that day. I am lucky, as I would not be here if my dad had not been found and rescued.