Last week I wrote love your children, pointing to a terribly sad story. Daniel, the father of the little girl who died, has been writing extraordinary, gut-wrenching stuff since then, but not without splashes of sunshine. I’ve been reading it and meaning to write here again saying “Read this!” and then today Daniel reached out of the computer and touched me and I just lost it for a while there this afternoon. I may be emotionally wrecked but I can’t help thinking: TV can’t do this. Newspapers can’t do this. Magazines can’t do this. This is sorrow and grace shared with the world: doesn’t matter who reads it, because what matters is that he wrote it. Elena’s short story may well live, insofar as stories do, forever.
