My friend's wife died on Thursday. I never met her, but I believe she must have been a remarkable lady.
She was only 31 when she died, but it was the third time the cancer had come for her. The first time, she was pregnant with her little boy, now two and a half. She raised and loved her child, ill all the while, and undergoing terrible treatments to try to slow the encroachment of the cancer through her body. She knew she probably wouldn't get to see her baby's first day at school, let alone all those other special milestones which mums and kids are supposed to share.
I don't know how a mother can reconcile herself to the knowledge she must leave her child. To go on in the face of that, using the little strength you have to make your last months with your child happy and special, takes a kind of strength that seems extraordinary to me.
My thoughts and aroha are with my friend and his son, and with anyone who has lost their own mother too soon.