I wore a brand new suit and prepared to leave for the airport. I was heading to Chicago to attend the annual fundraiser for Operation PUSH, which I served as National Coordinator. Just as I was grabbing my suitcase, my telephone rang and it was my brother calling. The two words he spoke marked the beginning of the rest of my life. He said, simply, “Daddy’s gone!”

My dad had been admitted to the hospital a few days earlier to undergo tests. Today, those same tests would not require being hospitalized. But back then, my dad had to actually be put to sleep and have the doctor cut him open for a colonoscopy. The tests had been completed and when I had visited with my dad the night before, he was doing fine.

So when my brother told me he was gone, my initial assumption was that he might have been transferred to another room. “No,” my brother replied emphatically. “Daddy died last night.” We later learned that the anesthesiologist administered too much anesthesia, inducing a heart attack that killed my father at 47 years old. He was my best friend.

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Listen to my commentary on this chapter: The 31-Day Makeover: Day #4.