A month before my son Christopher was born, in December 1969, his godfather-to-be was killed in Vietnam.
It was not supposed to happen. Craig was a medic at command headquarters, in Saigon, but he volunteered for a supply trip inside the lines and was caught in what is inexplicably called "friendly fire." When I heard the news by telephone, the baby in my womb kicked me in the stomach. It seemed fitting and right.
That was the season I discovered Mary.
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