Let this tale serve as a reminder of the cost.
Each shake and shudder of Flight 817 invokes memories of her seven-year-old son’s toothy grin.
There’s no escaping me.
A man takes a fateful ride home from work.
Nothing could keep me there — “NO!” behind me something pulls my hair, dragging me through the mud.
Ehren needed a tough nanny to deter the pests attracted to his child.
He was from another time, another place where people didn’t have faces.
I sat in the bathroom all night wondering if I was about to lose my baby.