Robin was four years old when her mother died. At the funeral, she was calm and strong—a little mother herself, helping her grieving father and older siblings. People commented on how well she was doing. She continued to do well for some years after that.

And when she turned twelve, her dog died.

Something inside broke.

The wall came down. The dam overflowed.

She knew as clear as a piece of broken glass that her mother was not coming back—ever!

She would have a whole year of twelve, and thirteen, and fourteen, without her mother.

She would have to go through high school, become a woman, experience her first love, learn to drive, get married, have children of her own—all without her mother.

Her whole long life ahead of her looked too heavy to manage.

“After my mother died,” she said, “I didn’t see any sense in life. I didn’t see how I could go on. I tried so very hard to cope and forget…but Bailey’s death opened up a world I thought I had buried. Oh, I miss my mamma so much!”

I am here to tell you I have seen the power of love start to heal deep wounds. I held that child in my arms for more than an hour as she grieved the death of her mother. It didn’t matter that her mother had passed away 8 years earlier!

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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