Updated: Jan 28
I sat in my daughter's bedroom every morning after the house became quiet and pleaded with God to help me find a way to be with Katie again. I counted the sleeping pills in the vial beside the bed and I calculated which highway was the busiest and would be easiest to have a head-on collision on. I begged for a terminal disease that would quickly end my time on earth.
I just couldn't do it anymore. If I couldn't live with this pain for six months, how I could I possibly live the rest of my life feeling like this?