I wrote this personal narrative for my English Composition class at Regent University, detailing the last couple of weeks of my son Joshua’s life. This was one of the hardest pieces of writing I’ve ever done. LORD willing, it will open the floodgates to write more about my precious Joshy in a future memoir. My face pressed into the worn blue carpet beside my bed. “I can’t. LORD. Please.” I sobbed. The guttural wails of my teenaged son echoed in my head. His mind remained that of a four-year-old, while his broken body had never developed beyond that of a ten-year-old.   “Mama, I hurt.” His eyes pleaded with…