The pneumatic doors of the hospital emergency entrance opened to the touch of my feet. It was February 5, 1991, a Tuesday. Kelly, the essence of my life and only child, had been pronounced dead at 3:26 p.m.
Weeks of class had left me with zero confidence in myself and my abilities to work with clay… Why was I so worried about what other people thought?
In less than an hour it would all be over. the oxygen in the car would be displaced by the carbon monoxide gas, depriving Victor’s lungs of the air needed to sustain his breathing. His choice of self-deliverance to God would be fulfilled.
As I look at the old black and white photograph of him and me, I see an image of a handsome young man, age thirty-five, and his infant daughter.