"You have to come home," Jeanne said on the phone. Her voice was urgent, shaking. "Joe has taken a lot of pills."
Jeanne, my wife, had stepped into the house that late-spring afternoon to find our son Joseph stumbling around the bathroom in a daze. The room was scattered with pill bottles and bubble packs.
Joseph, then thirteen, is our youngest child, the last one still at home.
He had tried to take his own life.