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If you know me, you probably know that my dad committed suicide on September 26 2005 with a rifle. It all happened in my grandmother's basement which also doubled as his massive workshop. My 77-year-old diabetic wheelchair bound grandmother spotted him at the bottom of the stairs. With a mother's might and determination, this frail women who could barely get in and out of bed from her chair, climbed down a full flight of stairs to her boy, no doubt hollering at him and crying. When she got to him she touched him and, as she said to me, "I knew."
My dad was a brilliant saxophone play...
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