My grandfather was always very energetic. We would go on hikes through the woods, play baseball, basketball, and go swimming.
I've only met my father once, so until I was about 10, I didn't even realize that there was some sort of family structure. Mother, father, grandparents etc. I looked at my grandpa as my father.
One day my grandmother got a phone call and just started crying. I didn't understand why at first. All the adults told me was that my grandfather was in the hospital and that he would be okay. It upset me that I wasn't allowed to visit him, and I couldn't understand why. A few months later I would learn that he had confided in our family doctor that he was feeling suicidal, so he was admitted to a mental hospital for two weeks.
The day he came home, all the family in the area greeted him and visited for a little while. My uncle and grandfather worked outside on the septic tank for hours while I played soccer. Just before it got dark I started to get hungry and was whinning like a little brat that I wanted McDonalds. So my mom and I said goodbye and left. I never saw my grandfather again.
The next morning my mom brought me back to be babysitted while she worked. I remember I was listening to a tape of "The Doors" I walked into the kitchen and saw my grandmother standing over my uncle with her hand covering her mouth. I knew right away, my grandfather was dead. My uncle motioned for my mom to follow him outside. My grandmother followed. I was left alone in the kitchen...I peeked outside and saw my mother's face bright red, she was sobbing.
I tried to remain optimistic. I told myself, "no, he's not dead...he's just back in the hospital...it'll be okay." I got up from the table and ran into the living room desperatly looking for him. I ran down the hallway and burst into his bedroom, the bathroom, my grandmother's room (yes, they each had there own seperate rooms) but I didn't find him. I even went back to the living room and waved my arms around in his rocking chair thinking that maybe I just couldn't see him...
I made it back into the kitchen just before my grandmother came back inside. She looked down at me and said, "Honey, grandpa's dead."
It took two days for a SCUBA diving team to find his body. He had committed suicide by tying a rock to his legs and jumping into a lake a short distance from his house. This only one day after being declared okay and released from the mental hospital...it actually happened the same night. He had sent my grandma out for something to eat, and when she returned he was gone. She claims to have called the house trying to reach my mom...but the phone never rang...weird huh.
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