My brother Christopher was a young man with a deeply hurting heart.Outwardly he was a normal 16 year old boy with many outstanding abilities. Anything he put his mind to he did very well. In sports, he was captain of his basketball team. In baseball, he was the starting pitcher. Christopher was a very handsome young man. His smile was amazing it could light up any room. He loved his leather jacket and shiny sunglasses. You would always find the smell of AXE or Polo cologne wherever Chris was. He prided himself in smelling and looking good for the girls. During the days leading up to his death he seemed normal. No signs or symptoms did he portray. Beneath the surface the pain from earlier days with his biological family were eating on him. As this combined with his bi-polar depression it grew to a stage where he couldn't handle it. When those thoughts do come across my mind, I have flashbacks to that morning when my husband and I saw my brother on the lawn in front of my camper at 7:30am. He was on his left side in the fetal like position his left hand still curled as if he was still holding the barrel of the 12 gauge shotgun,his right hand at his side in the rocks. The black shotgun was between his legs.He was wearing his army uniform and boots which he was given as a gift. His plan had been to serve his country once he graduated from high school. His face was like a white cloud, and lips blue like a blueberry. His right eye was closed almost like he was sleeping;but, the left eye was gone. The left cheekbone to the middle of his skull was blown away from the blast of the slugg from the shotgun. His precious brain matter and eye was on the ground among the crushed rock and the side of my camper. I remember so well that dad was on the phone with Lisbon 911. I was told to call my mother. She had taken my other siblings Kaleb and Breanna to school like she did every morning. She thought Chris had walked to school as he sometimes had don