I'm going to give this its own post. It has to do with other mothers. Sometimes I feel like a magnet for other bereaved mothers. On Friday the 11th, I worked at the store and found myself helping a woman maybe ten or fifteen years older than me who wants to hang a quilt her daughter had made and needed ideas about how to do it. Several people tried to describe our favorite method but then I just said let me show you and took her to our calico department where she told me that her daughter had died which was why she wanted to hang the quilt rather than use it. Her grandson, the daughter's son, was with her and my heart broke for both of them.

And the night before, a fellow employee who lost her own son on Thomas's 3rd anniversary, talked to me a bit about how hard the 11th of any month has been since he died. I know all too well what she means.

One knew my history, the other did not, and somehow we all ended up in the same place.