We returned to the temple with a crowd. It was much later than I had anticipated, and few others dropped off. When I opened the doors, everyone seemed to know who I was and why I had a crowd behind me. They rushed past me to find their loved ones, some of whom were being carried by others who could.
I scanned the room, fearing what I had to do. I saw the woman and her son in the back of the oncoming rush. Walking through the crowd, I felt people grab my shoulder, embrace me, say my name, step on my foot. They smiled at me, but my stomach was flipping over as I made my way toward them. It was hard to see the son and not think of the father, just like it was hard to see the father and not think of his son. Continue reading