One story gripped me enough to write a second part to my original piece.
A woman I know needed to buy a birthday card one week before Mother's Day.
She had suffered a tragic falling out with her mother. The kind of falling out that left her with no road back to what used to be "home"; no possible way back to her relationship with her mother.
She dreaded going anywhere to buy a card during the first half of May; dreaded the balloons and shiny store displays blasting the "show mom you love her" and "a mother's love" themes.
Being a strong woman, she entered the card store, not grimly, but rather vacantly. She fogged her mind and heart a bit, and gamely noted the many walls of brightly colored cards for Mother, as she strode past them.
In her deliberate daze, she found herself in front of a display of sympathy cards.
One card among the collection seemed to speak right to her.
She picked it up and read the words, "Nothing is harder than saying Goodbye to someone you Love".
She bought the card and brought it home.
Inside where the card said, "With Deepest Sympathy On Your Loss",
she drew a line across the word "Your", and wrote "Our", as in "Our Loss".
She wanted to send it to her mother on Mother's Day.
She started to address the envelope to her mother, and was forced to stop.
She could not remember the number on her mother's house address.
This was a long time family home, although she had never lived there.
She had addressed easily, by heart, hundreds of cards over the years to this house.
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