The Guns Are Gone

I finally got my dad to get rid of the guns.  He lied and said they weren't there.  Then he tried to tell me the neighbor had taken them or the handyman.  I told him to give me their telephone numbers so I could verify it.  Lots of cursing(his part) and screaming, but I stood firm.  I told him to either get rid of the guns or I was out of his life.  I told him the nurses already said they weren't coming back and his relatives were afraid to come.  
I told him I was calling the police Monday morning to collect them.  And true to my word, I called the police and told them about his diagnoses.  They said they couldn't take them unless he wanted to give them up.  I told them to head over to get them.  Then I called Dad and bluffed.  I said the cops were on the way to get them.  Since he felt he didn't have a choice, he got the two guns and we had a nice talk until the cops arrived less than fifteen minutes later.
About a half hour later the police officer called me and said they'd found a rifle and a shotgun as well.  Worse then I thought.  Dad had given them permission to search his house and that's how they found them.  This in spite of the fact that Dad had sworn he had no other guns.  Now he's saying he simply forgot he had them.
Best day I've had in a long time.   Dad actually enjoyed the visit from the police.  They were friendly and respectful and said Dad is a nice man.   finally,  I'm not living in constant terror of someone losing a loved one to my dad.
I thank God.