“Our daddy is dead.” I cannot forget those words and the heart-stopping gut punch that I felt as my brother told me that my best friend, mentor and rock was no longer. It was not the PTSD from Korea and Vietnam, the diabetes, the loss of his legs, nor the self-medicating with alcohol that ended his life; it was his easy access to a gun in those final moments when he lost all hope. His youngest brother followed a couple of years later, also with that same instrument of death, destruction and loss. Suicide may be an individual choice, but I firmly believe that my dear father and uncle would still be on this earth if not for a gun.