My husband and I had just had dinner at a restaurant when he got a call on his mobile phone. The officer who called said they’d meet us in the parking lot and didn’t say what it was about. When they did arrive, I got in the back of the car, my husband in the front passenger seat, and the officer said, “I am sorry to deliver the sad news that your son, Charles, was found dead this morning.”
I can remember suffering from depression, feeling inadequate and unloved at the age of eight. My parents were young– mom was seventeen and dad was nineteen. My mom was a single parent who struggled, worked all the time and did the best she could. But I was pretty much on my own most of the time because she had to work so much. My father did the bare minimum, I barely saw him and most of his love came in the form of a child support check.