After my son died, my friend moved away. What I discovered later devastated me all over again.

Her favorite toys were neatly arranged, a candle flickered softly, and framed photos of him were scattered throughout the room.
My eyes filled with tears as I realized what this meant: while she had been encouraging me to heal, she had been silently carrying her own pain all along.

She tearfully confessed that she had loved my son as if he were her own and that she had moved away not to escape me, but to hide her pain so that I could begin to heal without feeling her burden.

At that moment, I understood the depth of our bond.

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