- Left column
-
Right column
-
Top section
- Podcasts
-
Top section
Perhaps I am cursed to always feel the mark of yesterday’s pain. Yet, perhaps, tragedy is a grace and tribulation a gift. Perhaps from our deepest wounds grow roses of everlasting change.
When Mom and son reach the stairs of the slide, they are shouting in make-believe voices. Making more explosion sounds. But the boy breaks character for a brief moment. And in a voice that is small and sincere, he says, “I love you so much, Mom.”
Two different mothers, two different communities, two different tragedies that nonetheless remind us of how unspeakably fragile life can be.