This is my dad. John Michael Wilber. He was about 23 when this was taken. I would have been about two years old. He was a second-generation son of Irish Immigrants. He could fix just about anything from diesel engines to stubborn horses.
He would have been 65 this year, March 18th. He died 6 years ago today, February 9th, from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.
He was hurting. Inside and out. His wife pretty much ran us kids off due to her self -absorbed personality, and I am almost certain contributed to his untimely death. He left this world without ever meeting his youngest grandson, (my boy Joe), and has missed so many things in his children's lives that he should have been there for.
He was of the Catholic faith, and even with that, he was honored with a proper funeral, in church, with hundreds of mourners, shocked, reeling, overwhelmed, from this. He was forgiven. He went to Heaven. I stand unwaivered in my belief on that.
What I want you, the reader, to take away from this. Nothing. Nada. NOTHING. There is absolutely, irrefutably, NOTHING in this world that could happen to you, or me, or your best friend, or your mom, or some hero, that is worth taking your own life for. PERIOD.
We are here for a reason. No matter what faith you follow. There is a purpose. You just have to find it. You also have to make a choice. God gave you that freedom.
No matter how much you hurt, or how scared you are, or how far you've gone, there is always a way back. You just have to find it.
You just have to find it.
Dad. See what you lost when you left this sweet world?
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