Sharing the experience

went to interview group of Baptists tonight who are working toward a mission to Wyoming to build a church in a smll town and minister to men in mining camps.

As I walked in, there was a camper parked outside with a sign that said it's being donated to the mission in memory of a son who died when he was 24. Once inside, I saw a small bronze plaque that will be mounted on the church doors, donated in memory of a son who died in Iraq. When I statrted talking to the man who's heading the mission, he said he lost a daughter to cancer a few years ago.

It seem God keeps putting people who have lost children in my path. I talked to the woman who's donating the camper. Her son was murdered just after he turned his life around. I told her about Mike having been sober for 10 years and how he did what he called chasing drunks -- helping other people reach and maintain sobriety. I feel blessed that I had the chance to say goodbye and to sit by him and hold his hand. I can't imagine being told my child was murdered or killed in war. If I can think of any part of losing him as fortunate, it's that.

I keep thinking about what Nancy Burns said to me at church a couple weeks ago. She sat down next to me and took my hand and said, "We're sisters under the skin now in a way no mothers should be. I'm here if you need me."

It is a sisterhood in a way. No mother can fully understand what it is to lose a child unless it has happened.

I'm just beginning to move away from the moment he died. It still haunts me a lot, but sometimes I can think about his life again. I don't go back to that moment every time I think of him. I think it will leap out at me from time to time for the rest of my life, but maybe less frequently. I hope so, anyway.