We were the quintessential small-town all-American family with loving parents; I was the oldest of five children. We loved small-town parades, picnics, my mom’s deviled eggs, and fireworks. Dad was an Eagle Boy Scout leader, and Mom was a Brownie Troop leader. We were the joyful, happy, traditional family on your Hallmark greeting cards; the kind of family Normal Rockwell used as models for his American Family paintings.And suddenly one morning, without even the smallest warning—just like in the movies when there’s a horrible, screeching, ripping sound and everything freezes, and the picture you see on the screen literally rips into two jagged pieces—our wonderful, happy, secure life…just ended. Poof! Completely, permanently, and forever gone! I was 13 years old and fatherless. When I was 19 I added being motherless. My four younger siblings and I were orphans.