The last time I visited my son Rob’s apartment in Long Beach was the day after he killed himself , which obviously sucked, so I thought I’d tell you about the first time I was there, a week after he moved in.

I’ve never seen him look prouder than when he showed me the keys to his new place, and frankly, I don’t know if I had ever felt so proud of him.

It’s funny how you can juggle so many different emotions at the same time, because I also remember feeling scared and concerned. How could he possibly afford this apartment and all the pricey things that went with it, like internet access and utilities? How was he going to get to work from there, as it was definitely going to be more of a hike? Would he continue to go to AA meetings now that he no longer needed to follow anyone else’s r

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