December 18 will forever be devastating for me. December 18 was the day my dad was murdered. He was shot straight in the head, and — as we learned weeks later, from the autopsy — stabbed in the side of his head too. All because his wife wanted his insurance money.
Forty-six years old, the most brilliant, hilarious, charismatic human you’d ever know. A hero in the Navy, he was days away from receiving the Copernicus Award. My dad somehow had knowledge of everything and could fix anything. At his service, his chief petty officer shared that my dad once fixed an admiral’s communication equipment problem with a Slinky. Absolute genius.
He left behind me and my brother. My brother had 18 years with him. I had 16. That’s all. Then he was ripped from our lives forever. When your dad is killed, everything changes. My sense of security was obliterated. Holidays are torture. Seeing dad-daughter bonding and Father’s Day posts breaks me. Life will never be the same. Common-sense gun laws could have prevented this.