June 15, 2015.

Today is the anniversary of the worst day of my life. It is the fourth anniversary of the death of my oldest son, Taylor. I cannot began to tell you how devastating it is to lose a child. His passing brought our entire family to the brink of an emotional meltdown. I think about Taylor every single day. I have a hole in my heart that will never be filled.
Today, I should be with my wife and youngest son standing next to Taylor’s niche at St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan. His Niche is located in a beautiful courtyard overlooking Lake St. Clair. It is filled with trees and rose bushes. The air actually smells sweet when the roses are in bloom. It is a peaceful place, and when I am there, I feel close to Taylor.

Instead of honoring my oldest son, I am sitting in a prison cube in Pensacola, Florida because of my poor choices. I understand that I deserve to be where I am and that I am solely responsible for my situation. This knowledge does not make this day any easier.

Days with special meanings in the real world (birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, etc.) really cause you to think about the consequences of your poor choices.

I miss my Taylor. I miss my wife and my youngest son. I cannot wait to leave here and be with them again.

Ken Flaska

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