I can't write because it is read, I can't talk because it seems to not be understood. My privacy has been broken through reading my journals online or in a book. I have no outlet! (that's what it feels like anyway)
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I picked up my brother's ashes the other day at the funeral home which is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and after I was handed the box containing the 4 small urns, the young man had me sign a paper and then told me to have great day. I was stunned and speechless. How about saying something like "I'm so sorry for your loss"?
I lost my son Brian, on 10/25. He was 48. Brian was injured by the prescription drug accutane when he was 23 years old. This medication was for acne, and he wanted to look good for job interviews after graduating from college. This drug damaged his liver, his digestive system and his immune system. He never fully recovered from this injury. He had two degrees, one in marketing, and...