Strike Three, You're Out

until my estranged wife, Sarah, demanded he donate

, but Sarah, blinded by her obsession with t

ny hemorrhaged and urgently needed bl

elcome home" party, celebrating, utterl

g cold in mine, while his mother reveled i

e surgeons for a riskier, expedited procedure, de

unforgivable horro

d, where I went to scatter his ashes, Sa

n, spilled his ashes onto the pitcher' s mound, and then stomp

last remains obliterated by the very people he

unleashed upon a child's memory, by

that dusty field, leaving

old life, certain peace wa

cy left by Danny, might just of