Finding Father

I placed the key in the door, turned it to the right and opened the door. It opened with a small "click." Peter Frampton echoed through the small two bedroom apartment I lived in with my mom and dad. It almost seemed like he was playing in the house.
"Oooohhh baby I love your ways," I stepped into the kitchen and dropped my school bag on the counter, it made a slight "thud" as it hit.
"Dad! Where are you?" I yelled.
Dinner was made and sitting on the stove, one hamburger, macaroni and cheese, and some boiled brocolli. The food smelt excellent, my dad was a great cook. I turned everything one low heat and opened the fridge. I pulled out the bread and ketchup, opened the cupboard, grabbed a plate and placed two slice of bread on it. I don't know why mom insisted on keeping the bread in the fridge, we could just as easily left it on the counter, or put it in a bread box. I poured ketchup on the chilled bread. It always made everything you made with it taste strange. I put everything back in the fridge.
"Dad!" I yelled again, Peter Frampton still echoing through the house. I thought to myself how strange it was that he was not sitting there eating with me, dad always said, "It's important for a family to eat together." He believed that sharing the simpler parts of life with those you loved pulled you through the harder moments, and taught you that people were always there for you.
"Dad!" I yelled as I walked out of the kitchen torward the music, torward my parent's room. The music got louder the closer I got to the door. The door was just slightly ajar. I could feel a slight draft as if a window was open in their room.
I pushed the door open, it was hard to see in the dark room, but I strained to see if he was in there. A small piece of paper lay on the floor.
"New year's resolution: Make life better for Jack and Gina," I read out loud, "Dad?"
Silence. I can just barely see him on the bed.
"Don't get mad, I'm turning on the light," I say.
The light was very bright and slightly stung my eyes. "I wanna be with you night and day." Frampton was still playing, and all I could see was a dark red splatter on the headboard, lamp and the wall. I began to breathe sharply. I walked around the room to the side of my parent's bed, slightly terrified, slightly accepting what I knew was there.
"Dad?" I said as I shake his left leg, still having trouble breathing, it was like someone kicked me in the chest.
"Dad!?!" I screamed. I knew it was too late, the shotgun his father had given him gently lay across his chest. Tears formed behind my eyes and dripped onto the little yellow piece of paper still in my small eight year old right hand.
"Don't hesitate, because I know your love won't wait," Frampton's love song seemed to hit the exact feeling of that very moment. "I love you dad," I told him, just knowing somehow that he could hear me. That he was listening. That he still cared for me. I looked at his body again, and tried to except what had happened. There was another piece of paper sitting gently on the pillow next to his mutilated head, "Do not cry, it's for the best." I was crying and struggling to inhale so hard, it was causing me to choke on my own tears.
I listened to my father's final wish, droped the resolution, wiped the tears from my face and walked back into the living room. I called my mom at work, holding back the tears, "Mom, I know you get off in half an hour, but I just want to tell you that I love you." I said into the phone trying to remove the choke/crying sound from my voice.
"I love you too honey," she said with a hint of worry in her voice, "Is everything okay?"
"No, but we'll talk about it when you get here. I gotta go, bye," and then I hung up the phone, sat down on the couch and just spaced out.

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