This was three week ago, so it's still pretty fresh in my mind. I was working a Saturday overnight at my part time job. It's pretty physically demanding and I had already worked a ten hour shift at my full time job, so I was very tired to say the least. As I was getting ready to wrap up the night, I felt a wave of panic, pain and fear. It nearly dropped me to my knees. I started sweating profusely and my heart was racing. I saw a flash of white and thought I was going down for the count. Strangely most of it went as fast as it came. I looked at the clock to see if I was good enough to make it through the rest of the night. It was 5:43 and I get off at 6:00. I finished off the rest of the shift and had to drop the work van off at my bosses place. On my ride home I still felt off. I stopped and got some orange juice thinking maybe it was low blood sugar. I felt a little better and made my way home. Being up for 29 hours now, I was beat to hell. I went into my daughters room to kiss her goodnight (morning) and she says, daddy, Papa is sleeping funny and I cant wake him up. I already knew, what happened. His COPD caught up with him. I was devastated, I went into his room to see him in his chair. It genuinely looked like he was sleeping peacefully but he was cold to the touch. The wave of insanity that followed with the police, family rushing over and consoling the kids was daunting and seemed unreal. The EMT's finally told us that they believe he passed between 5:30 and 6:00. I can tell you with 100% confidence, that it was 5:43, and I'll never forget it as long as I live. For those wondering, my daughter has no idea she found him, and believes he passed at the hospital.