Reality was setting in. I exhausted every possibility of producing the thirty thousand back mortgage payments owed since I was laid off during the COVID-19 epidemic. 

We had helped our children out of their own financial messes, but now, their spouses prohibited them from helping their mom and me when we needed them the most. 

I was forced to move to a part-time position at my company or lose my job completely, reducing my income buy half, since I was considered “too old” in my sales position, but still produced more than my replacement, who happened to be related to the boss. 

At wits end, I discussed our options with my wife. She was heartbroken that our daughters were being controlled by their husbands, who only cared about themselves after we had placed ourselves in financial jeopardy to help them. 

We had no other options, the bank was foreclosing on us. In our late seventies, we had nowhere to go and no one willing to help us. 

We decided we were not leaving our family home. The night before the Sheriff came, we turned on the gas burner and lit several candles. We kissed, hugged, and a loud explosion ensued.