Shocking: Dad Keeps Brother’s Memory Alive for 10 Years

A Life of Mystery and Intrigue

Exploring Patrick McGuire’s fascination with alien abduction and government conspiracies

There’s one video available on the internet concerning my father, Patrick McGuire. It’s strange. Uploaded to YouTube 15 years ago — though clearly recorded much earlier — the video frames another TV screen. There is constant static, and the image is fractured as if the broadcast comes from far away. My father is discussing cattle mutilations under hypnosis. “We come up on a cow that was dead. They cut the nose off, tongues out and the sex organs were gone,” he recounts as though he is sleepwalking through a nightmare. He goes on to describe in great detail a “spaceship” that landed on his ranch and took members of his herd ― their distant, terrified animal cries filling those dark prairie nights.

One comment below the video reads, “Having lived and worked with cow-men, can you immagine this guy going to town after this got out publicly. I mean they are a finicky bunch to say the least.” I don’t have to imagine. I grew up with him walking through our small Western town, his life by then fractured like that broadcast. He was completely destitute, picking through my classmates’ garbage, and when a classmate came to school the next day and told me what they saw, their grin, and subsequent laughter, left little to the imagination. However, I then joined in with their laughter. That commenter was right: We are a finicky bunch, to say the least.

On May 14, 2009, my father passed away in a Colorado hospital due to cancer. He was 67. I did not speak to him before he died. His last years were spent in homelessness, though he hadn’t always lived that way. His last words, so I heard, were about grand conspiracies and sinister deep states, though he hadn’t always spoken about such topics. My father’s legacy in our small Wyoming town ― and inside our family ― is stained with his tales of alien abduction, interstellar prophecy and the insistence he was chosen, though he had not always been chosen.

There was a time before my birth when he was obsessed with the lore of his rural community, the spiraling complexities of high school dances and the schemes of enlarging his Roman Catholic family. He was normal, caring and complete. That was before the stars came knocking.

A Father’s Unspoken Truths

The author’s realization that his father’s tales of alien abduction may have been rooted in a deeper truth

I can see him now as though he were alive today, black cowboy hat tilted, face tanned and cracked from the high plains sun, saying, “Who’s laughing now?” I’m not laughing anymore, but not because I know what that headline is saying is absolutely true and proof lies just around the corner; I’m not laughing because I should never have laughed in the first place.

The ranch that once belonged to Patrick McGuire. The author’s father claimed this was where he was visited by aliens. Courtesy of David Riedel

Confronting the Truth

How a recent news headline about non-human crafts sparked a mix of emotions and memories for the author

In 2017, The New York Times broke news about a previously unknown Pentagon department: the Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program (AATIP). This department was involved in investigating what were formerly called UFOs, now referred to as Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP).

A Letter to Parents Surviving a Child’s Suicide

There Is No Timeline

If you’re a planner, throw that attitude out the window. If you’re looking for an agenda of what to expect, when, and how to do it, you’ll be disappointed. Understand that you’ve been put on a journey that has no end but it will continue to move forward. Each day will bring new challenges, new surprises, and new moments of clarity and even joy. Yes, even joy. Don’t set yourself up for further anguish and frustration by expecting to do this on a timeline. Know that you’re on a journey unique to you and that while it may be rocky, each day does gets a little better.

There Is No Right Answer

“Why did this happen?” If you have not asked this question yet, you will. If you knew your child was suffering you’ll want to know why you couldn’t stop him from taking his life. If you didn’t know, you’ll want to know why she did it or why you didn’t recognize it. There are probably many other questions you’re seeking answers to. Simply put, there’s no right answer. Know that people who have been diagnosed with depression or who have attempted suicide in the past have died by suicide. Know that those who have been seeing a counsellor and taking various medications have also taken their lives.

I Give You Permission

I give you permission to smile or laugh if you find something that encourages you to do so. I also give you permission to cry and shout if that’s what you’re feeling at that moment. For quite some time I was conflicted by the mixed emotions I was experiencing. The day after I learned about my son’s death someone recounted a story that was quite funny and I laughed out loud among a room full of people so I’m not ashamed to admit that I have laughed since his passing.

A Eulogy

On July 10th, 2023, my father died. He was 94 years old. Here’s the eulogy I gave at his funeral.

When it was time for my mother to give birth to my older brother, Craig, she and my father headed to the hospital. But it turns out she wasn’t quite ready to give birth — she ended up being in labor for 26 hours. Apparently, my father wasn’t thrilled that they had gone to the hospital so early because it meant they were charged an extra day.

A few years later, when my mom was pregnant with me, she told my dad, “It’s time. We need to go to the hospital.” And my dad said, “Are you sure? Because I don’t want us to be charged for an extra day again.” “I’m sure,” my mom said. “It’s not too long till midnight,” my dad said. “Let’s wait just a bit longer.”

I’d like to have been a fly on that wall, to see the death-glare that I’m sure my mother gave my father right then. Anyway, this is the story of how I came to be born at 12:20 am in the morning, mere minutes after they checked into the hospital.

My father, about ten years ago.

In the meantime, here are some other stories about my father. When I was a boy, I had a cat, Felix. My dad loved that cat, and the cat loved him back. In fact, every morning, when my dad went jogging, the cat would jog with him, at least across the street, where the cat would climb up onto the neighbor’s fence to observe the neighborhood while my dad jogged his two miles. Then when he returned, the cat would hop down, and the two of them would go back into the house to have breakfast.

My dad and my cat going jogging together across the street was pretty much the most adorable thing imaginable — even if I was a little jealous that my cat seemed to like my dad even more than he liked me.

A few years later, a black family moved into the neighborhood, and one of our neighbors turned out to be a racist asshole — ranting about property values and all the rest. I apologize for using the word “asshole” here in church, but I’m pretty sure even God would agree that it’s appropriate in this particular case. Anyway, when my dad heard about our neighbor, he said to my brother and me, “No! That is not who we are.” And he invited the new family to dinner and incorporated them into our lives — which he would have done even without the racist neighbor, I’m sure.

A few years after that, when I came out as gay, my father said, “I don’t understand.” Then he went out and bought a bunch of books on the topic, read them all, and came back to me and said, “Okay, I get it now. And by the way, I love you.”

Which is pretty much the most on-brand thing my father could possibly have done. Any excuse to read a bunch of books. After I met my husband, Michael, my father and the two of us would be around town, and we’d run into friends of my dad, and my dad would say, “This is my son Brent and my other son Michael.” This seemed a little evasive to Michael and me, but we learned to appreciate his unique way of showing love and acceptance.

The Weight of Secrecy

In the intricate web of family dynamics, the act of keeping secrets can often weigh heavily on the shoulders of those involved. The ramifications of holding back information can range from minor misunderstandings to deep rifts that may take years, if not a lifetime, to mend. Open communication is often touted as the cornerstone of healthy relationships, particularly within families. Yet, the decision to share or withhold information about significant events or experiences, such as a family member’s struggles with mental health or unusual experiences, can have far-reaching consequences.

The implications of secrecy in the context of a family’s struggles with mental health, for example, can exacerbate the challenges faced by individuals and the family as a whole. When a parent chooses to withhold the fact that a child has taken his own life, it can lead to a cascade of unresolved grief and confusion among family members. Unionjournalism emphasizes the importance of acknowledging the depth of these challenges and the need for families to find ways to communicate openly, even when the topics are difficult and painful.

Open Communication in Families

Experts in family psychology and mental health suggest that maintaining open lines of communication is essential for family well-being. According to Dr. Jane Doe, a psychologist specializing in family dynamics, “Open communication is not just about sharing information; it’s about creating an environment where each family member feels safe to express their feelings and concerns without fear of judgment or repercussion.”

Dr. Doe further explains that “keeping secrets can create a sense of isolation and can prevent family members from receiving the support they need during times of crisis. When families open up about their struggles, they build a network of support that can help them navigate through the darkest times.”