It's the day my life ended.
It's the day I heard terror in my wife's voice.
It's the day I heard my son had passed out at school.
It's the day that my wife and I were met at the hospital by the ER director, a chaplin, and some victim advocates from the sheriff's office.
It's the day I dropped my son off at school in the morning like any other day.
It's the day I will never hear my son's voice out loud, except in videos and my memory.
It's the day my son passed away.
I miss him dearly, tremendously, my heart is heavy and it aches whenever I think about it.
Michael was 9 going on 10 on July 1, 2009; but he never made it.
