After struggling with chronic pain management for several years, my dad committed suicide with a gun.
He was 68.
My dad was intelligent and caring. He loved life and had many friends. Because he had access to a gun, his suicide attempt was fatal.
He wasn’t there to walk my sister down the aisle when she got married a couple of years later.
He wasn’t there to attend any of his grandchildren’s college graduations.
He isn’t there to talk to when I need his sage advice.
Sunday, I used tools that my dad gave me when I was a freshman in college to install a new doorbell. I am proud that my dad raised a capable daughter who can do her own handyman work, but I am sad every time I look at the toolbox he gave me and remember that his life ended too soon.