100,000 people dead. Orphans, widows, mothers, fathers left behind.
My son fights for his life. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people following his story. Writing letters of encouragement. Sending gifts, money, prayers. For one child.
I couldn't find Myanmar on a map if I wanted to.
100,000 people dead. It crushes me if I let it.
It humbles me, yet again.
100,000 people. Dead.
Why him? Why them?
There is no reason.