On this particular day, there was a woman in line right in front of us. She was in her thirties, smartly but not expensively dressed, wearing dark glasses. When she took them off, you could see she’d been weeping. She was shaking her head. Mom talked to her in a soft voice. Not unusual—Mom talked to everyone and had no hesitation approaching people who were crying, in pain, or in distress. (“If they don’t want to talk, they’ll tell you so, but how can you ignore them?”)
