“What am I going to do, Jen?” she asked me one night.
She needed for me to be strong, and all I wanted to do was weep.
(It makes me wonder… did she feel like weeping when as a child I came running to her with my leg split open? Did she want to weep when I asked her to pray with me?)
I stared back at her and did everything I could to assure her that she’d be okay. Her soul was going to be fine.
“Mom, you are such a special human being. Everything is going to be okay.”
I stroked her head and tried to calm her.