"We all shine on, like the moon and the stars and the sun…" —John Lennon

A year ago today, I lost my seventeen year old nephew in a tragic car accident. Against the back drop of the imminent onslaught of Katrina, my family and I struggled to deal with the shock and disbelief of what was happening around us. We pulled close and braced for the biggest life storm yet.

I had just returned home from the clinic. I had made my choice…I'd had an abortion. Tired, weary and hurting I tried to sleep.

My name is Cristy, and I am a mother of two. My daughter Ashley is 14-years-old and my beloved son Zachary is now in heaven.

Our grandson died Thursday, the 25th of February, 1982, upon returning from kindergarten at the Immanuel Lutheran School in Waterloo, Iowa. Ryan got off his school bus, walked a block on the sidewalk and began crossing the street in front of another stopped, off-loading school bus.

Today is the three year anniversary of Carrie’s death. She was 20-years-old when she died. I can scarcely believe that this time has passed, yet, the calendars have changed and the seasons have passed.

I realise I am frightened of writing this article about the death of my twenty-two year old grandson, Keita Craig. I’m frightened for two reasons. The first is because he was diagnosed last summer as a “paranoid schizophrenic” and the image of schizophrenia is that of a knife-wielding maniac. In the end, Keita did indeed conform to this media stereotype. He attempted to snatch a handbag from a perfectly innocent woman and then punch a man who tried to stop him. Keita was very gentle, and we think it was a cry for help; a failed attempt as it turned out, to get somebody in the huge phalanx of “experts” that invaded his life to pay him some kind of concrete attention. What the poor woman must have seen was a six-foot man of mixed race attempting to mug her. If she’d had time to look at him, she would have seen that he rocked uncontrollably from side to side. This was one of the many unwelcome side effects of the bi-monthly injections. Secondly, how does anyone explain the crippling and unpredictable effects of mental illness—not only for the sufferer but also for the family?