On Monday, July 11, 2016, the Pennsylvania State Police found my son, Michael Walther, dead inside his locked home, in Pittsburgh, PA.
The family had not been able to reach him for some time. I did speak to him via phone on June 22, but that was the last contact, and what raised our suspicions was the fact that his phone message box was filled, a condition that he’d never tolerate.
My sister-in-law contacted the State Police, and requested them to check on him, including breaking in if necessary. They notified her of his death, and she contacted me.
I won’t go into details, but the State Medical Examiner called me on July 14, 2016 to let me know his findings. Michael suffered a massive seizure due to natural causes.
While I’ve always feared that a parent’s worst nightmare was absolutely the death of one of their children, I also thought that if the child was a grown man or woman, while the loss would be devastating, it wouldn’t be as bad as if it was a child. I was dead wrong; age does not matter one little bit.
Michael would have been 40-years old on December 8th, but I have yet to envision him as a 40-year old.
What has perpetually played in my head is the image of my little boy of 6-years old who wanted to go everywhere with his daddy. And we did go everywhere, at least everywhere I could take him.
I loved him so! I am hurting so bad right now; I can’t begin to describe the pain. I have to stop typing because it’s becoming too difficult to see my computer screen through the tears.
I’ll be back next Sunday.