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After Joshua died, there was no point in living. Without him I was nothing but an empty shell, or a seething mass of pain. I took the sleeping pills prescribed by the doctor only to wake up to an even greater emptiness and disappointment at still being alive. A small shred of me could see that Paul cared, that my mother and father cared but they too were grieving. Sometimes, I’d dream that there was a way to bring Joshua back, a cure or a magic trick I had overlooked. An impr