It’s late February. It’s inevitable. Everything affects me more deeply. I find myself being more melancholy, my grief is more intense, disabling, confusing and all-consuming. My son Alex should be 23 years old in a few days. I didn’t just lose a baby these many years ago, I lost a lifetime of memories with someone that I loved before we ever met. Some of the hardest losses we experience as human beings are those involving children. They go against nature. Children aren’t supposed to die. In my world, however, they do. Oftentimes children with EB die before they’ve lived, like my Alex did. Yes, he had EB, but we did not know it at the time. In my world, filled with families dealing with Epidermolysis Bullosa, children are gone before they’re healed. It’s tragic and gut wrenching, every single time. I cannot say I ever got used to it, andRead More →