When did you witness something definitely not meant for your eyes? I found my dad's will. I was on his

computer while he was at work. I was actually searching for his adult film stash. Anyway, I ended up

finding a strangely titled word document. At first, it didn't seem like a big deal. It contained

a note to each of his kids. It wasn't until I got to the last one, my youngest brother, that I realized it wasn't just a will. The start of that line read something along the lines of, if anything's going to make me change my mind now, it's writing this part. I realized I'd found my dad's goodbye note to those in his life. I was about 14 or 15 at the time, and I had no idea how to go about talking to him about it.

So I decided to just keep it to myself.

He started buying us gifts and stuff, and I'd get really scared and still just keep it to myself.

I remember one day on the weekend I woke up in my bed to a loud bang coming from my dad's room. I laid there for probably half an hour, completely frozen. Once I worked up the strength, I went to his room and opened the door. He wasn't in the bedroom, and I was so confused until I saw that the bedroom window was open. What had happened is that there was a gust and the wind had slammed the door shut, but my paranoid brain had heard

a weapon shot. After that, I was laughing hysterically, and I don't have much memory of the days

after that. Shortly after this incident, my dad had returned most of the gifts he bought us as

kids, and I slowly started to believe that he had changed his mind. I never confronted him about

it until last year, about 14 years or so later,

but I never fully accepted that he was okay now. I called him, distraught about a separate matter,

and he started talking to me about depression. He told me about his own, and how he'd considered

ending things and went into detail about it, and all I could do was cry and tell him, I know.

We talked a lot longer after that,

and we were able to finally put it all to rest. Growing up with my little brother and single

mum, we never had a lot, but she made sure we always had a safe and decent place to live,

and there was always food on the table. She never really ate much. I remember dinners of baked

chicken, beef,

stew, salmon, it was a lot cheaper a million years ago. Good food, nothing terribly extravagant,

but always nutritious, yet she barely ever ate. When I was 10, I saw her eating Peeby and Jay

on crackers in her room after dinner. That's when I realized there was never enough food for all three

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