I'm a 46 years old woman facing the hard reality of death. On January 21th 2007, my only child died in my arms after battling so hard his autism and his heart condition. My son Eric (Eric Morin) who liked to be called Ricky because we told him he was as handsome as Ricky Martin, was diagnosed with autism when he was around 2 years old. He was very deeply in his world. He would scream all the time, spinning, jumping, bitting himself and others. With patience and courage he let me into his world and he bravely came into mine. But in 2003, he got extremely sick. He was then diagnosed with enlarge cardiomyopathie. The cardiologist in chief of the Children's Hospital in Ottawa gave him 6 month to live. Eric was a strong boy and a fighter until Summer 2006 when he began vomitting again.In July, when he started being sick, I told my sisters it was the beginning of the end. The doctors of the Hawkesbury hospital were no help. They didn't believe that Eric was so sick. Our family doctor had to fight so Ricky was transferred to the Heart Institute in Ottawa. There, he got better but it was only a matter of time; he was going back to Heaven. Eric understood and enjoyed Christmas. So he stayed alive to see his last Holidays. Then at 19 years old, he died in my arms, living me all alone. He brought with him half of my heart and of my soul. Every morning and every night I cry because I miss my baby so much. He was my life. Now, I feel empty with no goal to achieve. I pray him to come and get me but I guess I have more to do and learn. P.S. Excuse my spelling and grammatical mistakes; I'm French-canadian. That's it about me for now. Thank you for reading.