I remember everything from that night, although sometimes I wish that I did not. How many times have I literally pinched myself and expected to wake up from this nightmare? Too many. I sat on my chair, a recliner given to me by Dad, next to Ryan. I was reading a textbook for my sociology class. I had just gotten home from work. On the TV was Top Gun, and Ryan and I laughed together at those awkward 80's moments. The phone rang. It was a little after 9pm. I was too late, and the caller on the other end had hung up before I could reach the phone in time. I looked at the caller ID and saw that the call missed came from my brother, Luke. I called him back. When he answered I heard him say not a word. I called out to him, and he erupted in a loud and overbearing sob. He didn't need to say another word. I knew. Believe it or not, I knew. He broke the news through tears. "Linds, Dad's dead. He killed himself." That was all he could say. I ran into my living room and screamed the most painful sound. I asked Luke to tell me the truth. I begged him to tell me that this was the sickest joke he'd ever played on me. But he didn't. I hung up the phone and asked my fiance', Ryan, to call Luke back and ask if he was kidding. He did just that. He found me in our bedroom pacing, and he squeezed me and cried. I was in such shock that I couldn't even breathe. I couldn't think, or react, or speak. I could hardly move. I remember looking at Ryan and asking, "what am I going to do?" He cried and hugged me. We gathered our two sons, put them in the car, took them to his mother and went to Luke's home. On our way there, in a weird sequence of events, we hit a deer with the car. A family of deer were crossing the road and there was not enough time to stop. The family made it across, but the father didn't. It sounded so much like what I had just experienced myself. Luke met me at the door, took me into a bear hug, sobbed and asked the same question to me that I asked to Ryan earlier. "What are we going to do?" We decided to go directly to Mom and Dad's. The cops were all in front of their home. Yellow crime scene tape. Flashing, bright, intrusive lights. The Sargent met us at the stairs to confirm what we already knew was true. I remember asking him for a note. But there was no note left behind. I wanted to know how he did it, as morbid and strange as it sounds. I was looking for anything that may possibly ring me some comfort and closure, if indeed that was even possible. He shot himself in the head with his 357 magnum. Even reading it on the page before me send chills and shock soaring through my body. My mother saw my father after he had done it, and was committed to a hospital for evaluation. We went to see her but could not. She was there for about a week. His funeral was on February 8th, 2008, and the amount of support, love, and comfort was incredibly overwhelming. It was a beautiful service. I cannot thank those who attended enough for their unbelievable support. It made that day a little easier to get through. He is thought about every single day of my, and my families, life. I remember him for all he was, and he he taught me. My memories are vivid and amazing. I will always ask myself "Why" and "What could I have done"...those questions will always remain unanswered no matter how hard I try to be a detective about them. I know for sure a few things: 1. He loved us and lived for us. He was as proud to be our Dad as we were proud to be his children. He absolutely, positively adored his family. 2. He just got tired of dodging life's punches, and I don't hate him at all for what he did. In fact, I respect him for proving how human he really was. In my eyes, he was, and will always be a superhero - but that night, he proved that he is just a man, and only human. 3. I will never let him be forgotten. And he will remain a hero and a blessing to all of us who truly knew him. I love you, Dad - and i always, always will. Be at peace!