By Desiree Woodland — 2019
Thirteen years ago, my son took his life. At the time, I could not imagine living one more day or hour without him, much less these many years.
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Maybe it was a grandparent, or a teacher, or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and searching, helped you see the world as a more profound place, gave you sound advice to help you make your way through it.