While I was standing on a bridge over a creek in the country, someone hollered out that my brother Chris had jumped into the water. At first I didn't think anything about it, but then someone said Chris was drowning. I thought, "Chris can't swim! He has muscular dystrophy!"

I looked down at the water. I didn't see Chris anywhere, but I could hear him pleading, "I'm going down! I'm going deeper!"

I continued looking out over the water trying to spot him. I hollered out, "Where are you? Close to the bank or what?"

He repeated the same thing two or three times and every time his voice sounded weaker and farther away.

I looked down into the water and finally I jumped in feet first. Once in the water I held my head at the level of the water and looked out over it – perhaps I could spot Chris's head sticking up out of the water. Seeing some movement in the water, I swam toward it. I groped around in the water trying to feel Chris, but I felt nothing. I continued swimming around looking and feeling for him.

Appearing to be unconcerned, my father said he knew. He said it was probably all for the best because Chris had had had muscular dystrophy and would have had to go through a lot of suffering if he would have continued living. This way it was just fast and quick and had put a quick end to his life. He said, "It was probably the best thing that could have happened."

I pondered. Had Chris wanted to drown? Had he jumped into the water purposely because he knew so much suffering was lying ahead for him if he continued living?