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After my father's suicide in 1979, his family and I lost eachother. Until now. |
Thanksgiving day, 1979, we received the call that he was gone. With a single shot he had ended the struggle to live with himself, and without us. My father was an infamous legend in the mountains that was said to charm the pants off anything. I came home from being born, to the log cabin where he hunted and fished for our food on the side, of his real life to live on the edge of everything. The years past for all those connected to him, as well all "lived life" on very distant paths. I am the daughter that was 5 years old at the time he died. Uncle Randy is his younger brother and my mother Patty, reunited us all after 20 years of wondering, only to find that we have much more in common than we thought possible. My father has 2 brothers, Randy and Eugene and a sister Cheryl. They each have adventures and rides as my mother and I do, since the many years of separation led us in different directions, mysteriously paralleling each other. There is no "creative" added to this journal of sorts; just the real emails back and fourth, which seem to reveal where my drive to write came from. |