But I understood something they did not.

I understood that grief, left alone, is a closed loop, a wound that turns inward and feeds on itself, that a loss which is only ever a loss becomes, over time, a kind of slow poison, sorrow with nowhere to go but deeper into you.

And the only way I have ever found to break that loop is to turn the grief outward, to make it into something that acts in the world, so that the love I have for my lost children, which would otherwise have nowhere to land and would curdle inside me into permanent pain, has somewhere to go: into the care of other children, other families, other mothers who might not lose what I lost.

That is what the foundation is, at its heart.