When I buried my son, the last thing I could ever have imagined is that one day I would publish a book about his death and my grief. With written words, I've tried to express the grief that I found to be so unspeakable. It would be unspeakable still, if morning had never come. But finally my long night of weeping ended and the joy of the morning came suddenly.
When I buried my son, the last thing I could ever have imagined is that one day I would publish a book about his death and my grief. With written word...