When they came for her there were no tears. It was a silent adieu. She asked me to look after papa. I am sure she knew she was leaving forever.

This hunt, compared with what my parents went through, was nothing. There are moments that leave their indelible mark, but I'm alive.

It was, in a way, reportage, because she was writing about what she had just seen.

I am sure my mother is happy. I understand now the point of my own survival.

Many of the Comfort Kits we hand out contain friendly notes from Seattle students that bring smiles and sometimes tears to the faces of Gulf youth. It means a lot to the children to know that others care about them as they continue to process what happened.

    Oh, devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!