Shortly after my miscarriage, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen for several weeks. She pulled me into her arms and whispered, "I'm so sorry about ..." and didn't finish, afraid to say the wrong thing. After a moment, I released my hold, but Marge didn't. She kept on hugging. I squeezed back, but again finished before she did. I hugged again, stopping only after Marge released.

When I stepped back, I realized she'd shown me more than love for the moment. She'd shown me she'd hang on to me, longer than I would admit I needed her.