On November 20th, 2000 my father committed suicide; I was 9 years old. It was Wednesday, my Dad's day to pick me up from daycare when I saw my Mother come down the stairs. She shot me a wave and smile and went directly to daycare supervisor's desk. They talked for a few minutes and I remember feeling deep down that something was very wrong. When we got home, the better part of my entire family was there and my Mom took me straight up stairs and sat me on the bed. She told me that my Dad had passed away and that she loved me. My first thought was, "Great, now I can go to the sleepover my Dad said no earlier this weekend". I started crying hysterically for what might have been 10 minutes and didn't lose a tear over his death for the next 12 months. This moment changed me, not because I wanted to grow up with only one parent but because it wasn't a choice - this was my new reality.
Losing my Dad gave me the ability to see the world from matured standpoint from a very young age. It is a dream of mine to someday adopt children of my own and give them the same love and guidance that my Mother raised me with - not having a conventional upbringing is something I could share with my future children.