The year of death. I said that to myself many times last year. It is how I will remember it. My daughter died. Alone and in her apartment where she took her life. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but it was inevitable

Life with my daughter was beautiful in the beginning. Born prematurely, she beat the odds and became a lovely young lady and person that every father hopes for. She was full of life, joy always in the lead. That changed when she reached her 20th year. The mental illness struck, and she began the slow slide into the darker world of drugs, homelessness, and constant family turmoil…