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Message: <blockquote data-quote="TracerBullet42" data-source="post: 3082514" data-attributes="member: 11885">Well, I've been going back and forth about this...not sure if I want to write this up or not, but here goes:It was Saturday, October 16th, 1999.  I was 21 years old, living at home.  To most of the country, it was Sweetest Day.  A holiday that I'll never, ever celebrate now.  I remember sleeping in that morning pretty late.  I woke up because I heard my sister, who just happened to be visiting from Indianapolis, saying, "Oh my God, she's not breathing!"  I jolted awake, thinking that the dog, being pretty old, had just died.  I wasn't a huge fan of that dog anyway, but it was still a little upsetting.  Just then, the dog came running into my bedroom.  I was immediately wide awake and jumped out and ran into the other room, where my mom had died during the night.  She had some heart conditions, but was generally thought to be in decent health.  I'll never, ever forget the feeling of grabbing her hand and just feeling cold.  Something that will haunt me forever.  I've been to a few funerals and seen enough bodies, but when it's your own mother and she's still in your house, it's unbearable.Fast forward to December 9th, 2004.  I was living with two roommates (sw3333 and monkeycheese42 of these boards).  We were renting a house.  One was a school-teacher and was always gone for work by 6:00 in the morning.  The other, Alan (monkeycheese42) worked a flex-shift and so his schedule was always changing.  It was not unusual for him to work early in the morning one day and late at night the next.  He was bipolar, had numerous back problems, and was always on a lot of medication.  That morning, I was running late for work.  I was on my way out to the garage when I heard a knock at the door.  I opened it up and it was Al's sister-in-law, who he worked with.  She said, "Where's Alan?  He's supposed to be working."  I figured he had just mixed up his schedule (not unusual) and had overslept.  I told her that I'd go get him and be right back.  I knocked on his bedroom door and called for him to wake up...he was late for work.  There was no answer.  I knocked harder.  (Sometimes his meds made him sleep through just about anything.)  Still no answer.  When I opened his door, I knew immediately that he was dead.  His skin looked blue and there was a trail of vomit coming from his mouth.  Just to be sure, I walked up and grabbed at his wrist to see if there was any sign of life.  Again, I felt the ice cold skin and had a flashback to my mother's wrist.  His sister-in-law came in and started screaming.  I tried to calm her down and dialed 911.  I'm still a little suprised that I was able to calm down, finding my best friend and roommate dead in our own house, but I guess that God just provided me with what I needed for that moment.At the risk of violating the "no religion" rule, I'd just like to say that through these tragedies that I experienced, I really saw God work.  It's helped shape my life in new ways.  If saying so violates these boards policies, I am sorry for breaking the rules, but I think it's important to include in such a message.This was a hard post to write, so I hope somebody gets something out of it.</blockquote>

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