COMMENT | On Aug 20, my wife Sook Yee, my son Branden, and I picked up three small bottles of medicine from a pharmacy counter.

I had pictured this moment for years, and always pictured it loud - tears, maybe, some kind of shout of relief.

Instead we signed forms, carried the bags to the car, and drove home mostly quiet, the conversation turning to what we should have for dinner, as if it were any other evening.

It wasn’t numbness. It was more like my body finally letting go of a breath it had been holding for 15 years.

Fifteen years. That’s...