On July 15th, a Sunday 6 days before my 21st birthday, my dad committed suicide. my mom had told him that she wanted a divorce, he had cheated on her months prior, he begged her not to leave him but she said she could never be with him after what he did. I will never forget that morning. i was 100 miles away working at a week long youth camp. I woke up at 3:00 am and looked at my phone. my younger brother had sent me a few texts saying my little sister was sick, mom was out with her friends, and know one knows where my dad is but he told them he was drunk. My dad was an alcoholic, he had not had a drink in 27 years and i had never seen him take a drink in my life. I called my mom and asked where she was, she said she was at a restaurant with her friends sobering up after a night of drinking. I was out of my mind mad at my mom for going out and leaving my little brothers and sister at home. i told her to get home now and to quit being a idiot. her some relatives were at our house after my brother told them what was going on. one of them went and picked up my mom. I tried calling my dad, knowing something was wrong that he was drinking. he wouldn't answer. i sent him a text asking if every thing was alright. i got no response. my mom said she didnt know where dad was and that i should probably come home. i left for home at about 6 in the morning and headed straight for my dads hometown a few miles from our house. i drove all over looking for his car, trying to call him. all i could think is that i would find him somewhere sleeping off the booze. i couldnt find his car and my mom told me she had called the police to look for him and to come home. it was about 9:00 am when the police found him. They told us they found his car at a hotel and that they were going to go talk to him. it was about 20 minutes later when we got another call. i just remember my mom hanging up the phone crying and and said "he fucking did it". I asked he if thats what they told her and she said they wouldnt tell her where he was but that we had to come to the hotel. we drove into town knowing the inevitable. when we got there a cop walked up to us and told us that my dad had shot himself in the head sometime early that morning. he brought out the stuff my dad had with him. his shoes, cloths he had taken off before bed, wallet and his rosary. he wore a rosary around his neck every day, i keep that rosary with me now. I will never forget having to tell my brothers that our dad had killed himself. later that day my brother showed me a text dad had sent him about 3:00 that morning. That text still haunts me months later. "your a good man. im sorry i cant live with out you guys, i love all of you so much. take care of each other." my brother told me when he got that text he started crying thinking about if he really would kill himself, but he didnt think he would, none of us did. i spent the rest of the day crying and trying to comfort my younger brothers. the next week was incredibly painful. the funeral. we couldnt have an open casket. me and my mom and my aunts and uncles viewed him, but he looked nothing like my dad. we didnt even recognize him. we didnt want my brothers to see him like that. it has been 3 months since that day. and i have cried every day. i miss him so much. i have no anger towards him for what he did. i know he loved all of us and he told us how proud he was of us all the time. i just really miss seeing him. i miss coming home and seeing him sitting on the deck, smoking a cigar, grilling a stake. there is a room in our house i can not go into without braking down into tears. my dad's weight room. my dad lifted weights every day. I always looked up to him, he was like superman to me as a kid. his weight room walls are covered in family pictures that he has stapled to the walls over the years. going in there is just to overwhelming. it brings back every family vacation, every birthday, every Christmas, every good memory i have ever had with my dad surround me in that room and all i can think about is how i will never get to experience any of those again. he is gone forever. my life is never going to be the same. i worry about my younger siblings and try to be there for them whenever i can. i remember walking outside the day after my dad died and seeing his ash tray sitting on the deck with a half smoked stogy sitting in it.. i busted into tears as soon as i seen it. My dad was an original. he had his own sense of style, his own sense of humor, and his own way of living.. i love him more then he ever knew and he had a bigger impact on my life then he could ever imagine. I just wish i could see him one last time. I have dreams about him. he walks into the house like nothing ever happened.. it wasnt him that we buried.. it was all a mistake. i run up to him and hug him an tell him i love him and i know everything is gonna be alright.. but then i wake up.. and i know it was just a dream. and he is dead. it hurts just as bad as the day i found out. i only hope i can be the dad he was to me to my future children. Love you dad, cant wait to see you again someday..