On love and loss.

Oh, sweet Lord.

Go read this story. I have GOT to stop doing this at work.
A most beautiful and eloquent piece about what it's like to lose your child, whether he's 7 months old or 40 years old.

More than 40 years ago, my mother and one of her best friends struck an unconventional deal: They would share me.
My mom, Beth Dahlstrom, met Isabel Peterson when they were both nurses at a Southern California hospital. They became even closer friends when both became pregnant with their first child in their late 30s, later in life than many women at the time, and gave birth the same year.
I was 5 months old in July 1967 when Isabel’s son, Wendell, was born. My mom still cries when she recounts that phone call. Something was wrong with the baby, Isabel told her. He’d been having convulsions and was severely brain damaged. The doctors didn’t expect him to live.