I was in a terrible state of mind at school today; today being the day that I came home to find that my father had committed suicide in the garage in the ’52 Buick.

You can understand my relief when I found the garage empty.

My father arrived home at the usual time and in perfect physical health. I’m not so certain about his mental state though, but I can only guess that it is not very stable.

It would seem that our little chat on March 28, 1969 has done its job. If he can endure through his period of extreme depression, I am sure that he will very shortly start to feel better about himself again. It just needs time. They say that time heals all wounds, and hell, I’m living proof of that.

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