Daniel
On June 20, 2012, our 28 year-old son, Daniel Kevin Faddis died.
His death rocked me to the very depths of my soul. It was shocking and devastating. I now can understand more clearly how deeply my mother was hurt when my brother Kevin died 31 years ago in a car crash. However, my pain has a different level because Daniel shot himself. Some people believe that Daniel did not mean to kill himself, that it was accidental. As for me I do not know anything more than he was very careful about guns and whether he meant to or not, he is still gone from us.
This event has changed me forever. I will always be sad that we will never again verbally spar with one another, watch a "macho man" movie together or go on a houseboat trip and compete to catch the most fish. I will not have a grandson named after me or hold a little girl that Daniel fathered. Although I hurt for myself, I hurt even more for my Linda. She carried our only son for nine months, nursed him and raised him while I was at work seemingly all the time. I believe there is a bond between mothers and their children that men do not have. I hurt for Daniel’s sisters who deeply loved their big brother as well as for his nephews who idolized their Uncle Daniel. I especially grieve for his fiancee, Michelle, to whom he was to be married on July 21 of this year.
I do not blame myself for Daniel's death. I was the best father I knew how to be. I was not absent and I provided the things a Dad is supposed to give his family- food, shelter and protection. My son and I had a good relationship for which I will always be grateful. I am not mad at God but I have railed at Him for allowing it to happen. Nonetheless, I have relied on my Heavenly Father to get me through all the other untimely deaths of my family members. Since this is the worst, I will need Him now more than ever.
I figure that I have two choices. I can give up on life and allow Daniel’s death to wilt me. Or, I can use it to become a stronger and more compassionate man. I want as much good to come from his death as is possible. One of those things is me writing this blog. Time will show what I decide to write here and if it will touch others. I am known to be a transparent person. I say what I think, I cry easily and I care about people. So, if you plan to follow my blog, be prepared to look at what is inside me because I intend to hold nothing back.
Daniel was our first born and only son. Linda and I were full of pride and love for him. As a father, I was proud of my macho self for fathering a son even though I know I had nothing to do with the chromosomal process.
One of my favorite images is him wearing his beloved cowboy boots and a swimming suit and no shirt. I nicknamed him “Rooster” because he woke us up each day at the crack of dawn. When Daniel was five we agonized about sending him to kindergarten in a public school because we didn’t want him to learn bad things from the other kids. The first day after school he told me, “Dad, I know what the “F” word is.” My heart sank and our worst fears were confirmed. However, my devious side wanted to hear him repeat it so I asked him to say it. He said, “Fart.” Talk about relief! I laughed and told him that yes, that was the "F" word.
Daniel accepted Christ at age 10 and I baptized him and his sister Heather in a friend’s swimming pool. He was raised in a Christian home, was home schooled until high school when we sent him to Valley Christian.
We do not understand why Daniel did this. He had a lot going for him with his upcoming marriage, pursuing his Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice and his job which he loved. It is our belief in Christ that gives us confidence that Daniel is in heaven and waiting for us to join him when we pass on.
His death rocked me to the very depths of my soul. It was shocking and devastating. I now can understand more clearly how deeply my mother was hurt when my brother Kevin died 31 years ago in a car crash. However, my pain has a different level because Daniel shot himself. Some people believe that Daniel did not mean to kill himself, that it was accidental. As for me I do not know anything more than he was very careful about guns and whether he meant to or not, he is still gone from us.
This event has changed me forever. I will always be sad that we will never again verbally spar with one another, watch a "macho man" movie together or go on a houseboat trip and compete to catch the most fish. I will not have a grandson named after me or hold a little girl that Daniel fathered. Although I hurt for myself, I hurt even more for my Linda. She carried our only son for nine months, nursed him and raised him while I was at work seemingly all the time. I believe there is a bond between mothers and their children that men do not have. I hurt for Daniel’s sisters who deeply loved their big brother as well as for his nephews who idolized their Uncle Daniel. I especially grieve for his fiancee, Michelle, to whom he was to be married on July 21 of this year.
I do not blame myself for Daniel's death. I was the best father I knew how to be. I was not absent and I provided the things a Dad is supposed to give his family- food, shelter and protection. My son and I had a good relationship for which I will always be grateful. I am not mad at God but I have railed at Him for allowing it to happen. Nonetheless, I have relied on my Heavenly Father to get me through all the other untimely deaths of my family members. Since this is the worst, I will need Him now more than ever.
I figure that I have two choices. I can give up on life and allow Daniel’s death to wilt me. Or, I can use it to become a stronger and more compassionate man. I want as much good to come from his death as is possible. One of those things is me writing this blog. Time will show what I decide to write here and if it will touch others. I am known to be a transparent person. I say what I think, I cry easily and I care about people. So, if you plan to follow my blog, be prepared to look at what is inside me because I intend to hold nothing back.
Daniel was our first born and only son. Linda and I were full of pride and love for him. As a father, I was proud of my macho self for fathering a son even though I know I had nothing to do with the chromosomal process.
One of my favorite images is him wearing his beloved cowboy boots and a swimming suit and no shirt. I nicknamed him “Rooster” because he woke us up each day at the crack of dawn. When Daniel was five we agonized about sending him to kindergarten in a public school because we didn’t want him to learn bad things from the other kids. The first day after school he told me, “Dad, I know what the “F” word is.” My heart sank and our worst fears were confirmed. However, my devious side wanted to hear him repeat it so I asked him to say it. He said, “Fart.” Talk about relief! I laughed and told him that yes, that was the "F" word.
Daniel accepted Christ at age 10 and I baptized him and his sister Heather in a friend’s swimming pool. He was raised in a Christian home, was home schooled until high school when we sent him to Valley Christian.
We do not understand why Daniel did this. He had a lot going for him with his upcoming marriage, pursuing his Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice and his job which he loved. It is our belief in Christ that gives us confidence that Daniel is in heaven and waiting for us to join him when we pass on.
Comments
I am a brother in arms from Daniel's time in the worlds proudest and strongest Navy. Daniel, myself, and our brother Ray Rivera were extremely great friends during our time overseas together. Ive been thinking about my brother, your son, a whole hell of a lot lately, the timing of my thoughts is rampant and unpredictable, but it comes at times when I feel like I have no strong bonds with anyone in my immediate circle. Your son, being the man he was when I knew him, would have never allowed such a feeling to come over me, or any of us for that matter, and I will never forget that hot day on the car lot when I totally lost it when I found out what had happened to him. Its a scene that plays over and over in my subconscious mind, anytime I hear of another brother in arms losing the fight back home, the memories begin to flood and unspeakable rage comes over me. Lately we had more brothers, this time infantry brothers of mine from my 2nd enlistment in the Army, lose this battle, I mourn them deeply, and despite my sentiments being towards each brother, thoughts of your son fill my mind, and I mourn him also during this time as well.
Ive been reading alot of your blog for much of my shift I am working right now, fighting tears while attempting to troubleshoot cable problems remotely from San Antonio Texas. I think strongly the reason why I have not lost it and abandoned my post tonight, is because of all that I have read tonight that you have painfully written on this blog.
Mr Faddis, your spirit of reconciliation as well as one of great strength has inspired me to move past tonight, a gift I can honestly say seldom comes at moments like this, but when it does come, I recognize it for what it is, and make it a point to honor that blessing, and to remain strong enough to see the end of the day, with the next day coming in on schedule, filled with many reminders which drive me at times to points of great insanity.
I got to know a little more about my brother today through this blog, and I want to personally thank you from the bottom of my heart for having the fortitude to continue on, while sharing with all of us, everything you and your family endure as a result of that fateful night. I wrote a comment to Daniel on his Facebook, and told him that you are, indeed, an incredible man. And the incredible nature that is in you, is the same nature I recognized in your son. Thank you for allowing myself, as well as all of his brothers in arms, the possibility to know a man of such a high caliber. I will continue to keep you and your family in my thoughts sir, as I have always done, and one day soon, I hope I can make it back to my native California, where I might one day be able to meet you and better relay my feelings instead of through this computer.
Thank you for being a strong man and for giving me a reason to keep it moving to the next day. I wish for nothing but healing and solace for you and your family.
Thank you so very much for everything you have written.
Very Respectfully,
William R Barrera (MA3)