Gonna piss off a whole bunch.

I don't understand why anyone should get pissed off because I portray my father's suicide as a good thing. For him. For the family. For everyone involved. I've been doing it for years. But still, people get pissed off. They say in no uncertain terms that I have no right to make suicide seem like a good thing. But really, all I'm saying is I like to give a positive twist to life and death. Might as well. Makes me feel better. Anyway, dad's suicide was a long time ago. In 1949. When he was 38. Had he lived, he'd be 101 now. Once I separate myself from the actual event, I see very much good coming from it. My father was an habitual gambler. And he fell out of love with life, I guess. So he wanted out. And he made a free-will choice. Life was no longer worth living. If he's in the spirit world, maybe he's happy now. If there's absolutely nothing after death -- well, maybe that's exactly what he wanted. No harm in that. Of course, the family and friends lamented after his death. Thinking maybe the suicide could have and should have been prevented. Besides, it caused some grieving by the survivors. Some unhappy moments. But the point I wish to make is that everyone got on with their lives. Or at least they had ample opportunity to. In reasonably happy manners. And in some ways, life was much better without dad. Especially for mother. So there were practical and emotional benefits in the long run. I've had moments of grief in my life. Some pretty sad happenings. But often, they led to a better life. Because I adjusted. Adapted. Yes, got on with life. Certainly, I have overcome any ill emotional effects from my father's suicide. My message: It turned out to be a good thing, dad. For everyone. Even though in saying so, I'm gonna piss off a whole bunch. --Jim Broede