"He looks just like me. Mom, I should have tried to see him." These were my words as I looked at my biological father lying in his coffin. His name was Larry James and he lived in Utah. I hadn't seen him for years. It was spring last year. The evening was quiet and I was trying to concentrate on my chemistry homework, which was becoming incredibly boring. The sudden ringing of the telephone broke the calm. No one screamed downstairs, so I knew it wasn't for me. However, after a few minutes, my mother came down the stairs with a serious expression, as if we needed to talk. At first I thought, “Oh great, what have I done now?” Then I realized he was crying. "Tanya, your Aunt Linda just called." My aunt Linda, I had never even heard of her. "Your father, Larry, died last night." I was numb; I didn't know what to think or feel. My mother kept talking, but the whole conversation seemed unreal. He told me that he had committed suicide and that the funeral would be on Friday. I had to decide if I wanted to go. After she left, my emotions overwhelmed me. I broke down and started crying. Not a light, short cry, but a tearful, trembling sob. I didn't even know why I was crying. After all, I really didn't know him. Yet, I still felt like it was part of me. All I could think about was that the next time I went to Utah, I would try to see him and this would never happen. Even though I didn't really know him, I still decided to go to the funeral because I thought I needed closure. The four-hour drive from Hotchkiss to Utah seemed to take forever. In my mind I kept going over the fact that my father was dead and I would never truly know him. I tried to remember him, but my only memories were of him halfway through the job. Larry meant a lot to her, so she was really upset. He recognized me, though, which is surprising considering he had Alzheimer's and hadn't seen me in over two years. Even though I didn't really get to know my father, being with his family made me feel closer to him. After the dinner following the funeral, my mother and I said goodbye to everyone. Later that night, my mother and I began to remember Larry. I wanted him to tell me more details about himself than he had previously shared with me. Instead of telling me, he showed me. There were photos of him and my mother on their wedding day and the reception afterward. The image that stuck in my mind was one where Larry, my mother, and I were actually a family. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I told my mother, "Mom, I never knew him and I could have stopped it. I should have tried to see him."".."