Today is Memorial Day. My dad was a veteran of World War II. He fought and lived through a terrible war, but when he found out he had lung cancer and emphysema, he knew he would be fighting a losing a battle. On June 4, 1991, he decided to end the war forever.

He had taken 37 radiation treatments that had decreased the tumor in his lung so much it did not show up on x-rays in October '90. By March '91, the tumor was back and growing.

Dad was a very active person, as are most seniors. They grew up working hard and forgot how to take it easy.

Dad gave no indication the night before when I talked to him that he was thinking about taking his own life. Monday he went for his doctor's appointment. Tuesday and Wednesday he lay in the bed, too sick and weak to get up except to go to the bathroom, which was getting to be a chore for him.

Thursday, when I came home and fixed his supper to take to his room, I found him in his room with his head mostly blown off and blood and brain matter scattered all over his room and the hall to the bathroom.

His 303 British infantry rifle, which he had proudly kept because it was like the one he carried in the war, was sitting on the floor between his knees. It had been loaded with explosive tip shells, so the police investigator said.

I am writing this to you today so that you can put this story in your newsletter or whatever publication you want so that others will not have to deal with the horrific sight that this kind of suicide causes.

There is a better way. If this story can help just one person, it is worth the time it takes to type it here.

I have learned to deal with my dad's death. I would rather he die as he did than suffocate from lack of oxygen because of his diseased lungs.

I hope that you can help others to realize that they and their families deserve a less horrible, more dignified way of dying.

Thanks, Diane