Good evening Sup Forums.
I want to tell you about this man in this picture.
His name is Martin Alfred Mitchell.
Born in 1956, he was raised in Alabama until he was 10. He and his 5 siblings were moved to a small house in Stone Mountain, Georgia, where he attended Towers High School and graduated with a Masters at Georgia State.
For years he worked at odd jobs. From missionary in Germany to a hospital receptionist, he ended up at Georgia State yet again as a computer technician.
When I was 2 he married my mother. She took the name Mitchell and I was adopted into it. We lived happily until their apprupt divorce in 2006.
In 2011 he was layed off from his job. It was easier to train new people than to have him catch up on new training. Georgia State stabbed him in the back and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
For the past 5 years he suffered. He spent all of his retirement funds to support my younger brother and himself. Broken, he never left the house or tried to find another job.
This year in March, I got a call. He had dissappeared from his home. He didn't take his car or his wallet or any belongings. The door was unlocked and he had vanished. Some in my family had said that he ran away from his problems. But I had faith that he was doing alright. That he wouldn't do that to us.
On Wednesday I was told his body was found behind a firehouse not half mile from our house. On a hidden trail, he died and rotted for 4 months. 4 months his corpse sat in the middle of a forrest while all of us searched high and low for him.
His body is in autopsy right now.
He could have been murdered.
He could have gotten early dementia and wandered off.
He could have died painlessly.
He could have suffered to no end.
This man was my father, and no matter how he went, it makes me sad to think that such a thing could have happened to such a great man.
Look at this great man. This is my father. I love him. And I want the world to know it has lost someone of value.