Someone I know lost her mother yesterday. She was in the ICU and declining, and yesterday they got the call.
A week before Thanksgiving.
I know there’s no dad in the picture. That was a tragic story as well.
I shouldn’t know these things about her life. I’m not close to her even to be called a friend. I’ve just been there.
There, in the room, when things have happened. When news was relayed to someone else with me standing by.
I feel like God wanted me to know these things, though I have no right. I’ve no business knowing. I don’t mean to know. It’s just too much of a coincidence that I’ve been there every single time something has happened.