When I was seven years old, I had no worries in the world. I was seven years old for God's sake. My biggest worry was what snacks I would be having for lunch and that I better be able to buy those cookies at lunch.
When you were seven years old, I'm sure you didn't have any worries, either. We are too young to realize our surroundings and too young and carefree to understand them either.

I was forced to understand my surroundings when I was seven years old.

It was October 6, 2002.
It was sunny out, I remember that.
I woke that morning, just like any other seven year old.
Ready to go on more adventures.
My mother, sister and grandmother and I all have this tradition.
We all go out Pumpkin Picking for Halloween.
We would usually pick out 8 or 10 pumpkins.
Our town knew us for the best pumpkins.
I didn't and still don't care how dumb that sounds.

So, all four of us got up early and went to the farm.
I remember what I had last said to him and what he said to me.
He told my mother that he would be heading out soon.
"I'm going to go to HomeDepot, Lori.
I need to pick up some tools for the shed."
This wasn't out of the ordinary.
He was always working out in the shed.

I walked over to him, like every other time I would.
He got down on his knees and said "Love you, Amanda."
I wrapped my arms around him and said, "I love you, dad!"
And then he told me "I'll see you later, peanut."
I felt his stubble from his unshaven beard brush across my left cheek.

That was the last conversation I ever had with him.

My mother, sister, and grandmother and I got home around noon.
We didn't see the red truck in the driveway.
We figured he had gone to HomeDepot already.
That he would be home soon.

Soon turned into hours later.
But it wasn't him that returned.
We saw flashing lights come down our road.
Being the curious neighborhood we are, everyone got out of their houses.
They pulled right into our driveway.
Another on the side of our lawn.

"Mrs. Urmann, we need your family to come outside with us.
Everyone."
The atmosphere changed then.
It was foggy and dreary.
It's as if I knew what was coming.

"Mrs. Urmann, family, we found your husband.
He was dead on impact."

That's when the world went dead.
My mother crying, my sister, my grandparents.
I swore my dog even started crying.

I didn't know what was happening.
I fugured that just meant he was on a long trip.

As years passed, I finally saw that he wasn't on a trip.
He was never coming home.


I've only ever told this story in full detail to one person.
I don't enjoy talking about it, as you can imagine.
Sometimes I thank God for giving me that last moment with him.
I can still feel his stubble rubbing on my cheek.
I can still feel his hug and see his smile.
Whenever someone tells me I remind them of my dad,
I say "Thank you, that's the best compliment I have ever gotten."

I'm currently sitting at the spot where our last conversation was held.
Right in our foyer on the porch.
I walk through it every day.
And all I can see is him.