MY HUSBAND had lunch with an old friend yesterday.

They sat on a park bench next to a river and ate greasy sandwiches.

My husband’s friend had a daughter who was in her early thirties. He was very fond of her. She died a year and a half ago under tragic circumstances.

He mentioned, matter-of-factly, to my husband as they were chatting on the bench on a beautiful fall day that every morning he wakes up with tears rolling down his cheeks. Every morning, he cries again.

Sometimes one person’s sadness is so powerful — and understandably so — that it seems to engulf the world in flames.

We who are relatively happy — we live on this burning globe.

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