Before My 19-Year-Old Son Died, He Donated His Heart to an 18-Year-Old Girl—Then Her Mother Handed Me a Letter: “Mom, There’s Something You Need to Know About Her”
I went home afterward and sat on Caleb’s bed.
For the first time since his death, I was angry at him.
Immediately I felt guilty.
Then angry about the guilt.
Grief is crowded.
Love does not evacuate the room when anger enters.
PART 10 — HIS JOURNAL
Caleb kept journals.
I knew that.
I had never read them while he was alive.
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