People deal with pain in different ways. What I know now that I could not have possibly known then, was that my Momma was “laid low” when she realized my hero and hers, was not going to walk through the door calling for her again, and kiss her like he hadn’t just seen her twelve hours before. He had done it every day. I know she had to really miss that hug and kiss. I missed it and it wasn’t even me who was getting hugged and kissed! They never hid their affection! I felt the power of love in that house. Every day! I felt it even when the steel mill had my father captive for all those hours daily. It was like he left part of himself behind to keep us going until he was back. When he died he left my mother behind in a big house, with a sad little girl, and no loving hugs and kisses to be had again, ever. After the funeral she left me and went on a journey. And when she finally came back and unpacked the suitcases and put them away, she was different. She was fighting back tears every single day for the rest of her seventy-nine years. I witnessed how that can hurt, and how that hurt can be like a living breathing thing in a place. Yes. I had a sad story, and I felt that was all I would ever have.