A Mother in India

A special day - a beginning.

Last Sunday probably was like any for most people. A hot summer day in a city that seemed bleached and exhausted as a blazing sun shone relentlessly from a clear blue sky. For me it was a special day. I met two people. One, a petite, beautiful mother whose son was struggling with this illness and the other a young soft-spoken man who was courageously coping with the illness that had touched him.

We met at the mother's home and as the mother and I exchanged our stories they seemed so much the same - the tumult , the uncertainty and the fervent hope. The young man joined us later and as we sat together and spoke I felt like a link in a chain which joined me to them.

There was no need for inane speech to fill time. Whatever was spoken was understood. We had been through a similar journey in our lives which connected us. The invisible illness did have the power to bind us with the invisible strands of our similar experiences.

Later the young man was kind enough to drop me back home. I invited him to meet my family. He came in and met my daughter and my husband. My daughter was for the first time in her life meeting someone like her who was battling this illness.

The beautiful mother, the soft-spoken young man and I were three strangers, combating the same illness while living in the same city. I doubt we would have ever met at all if it were not for this web site. We met last Sunday. It was a special day and hopefully a beginning.