I always felt that if a child of mine was ever killed I would never be able to stop screaming. But you can’t keep screaming. I realized you only have two choices: You either kill yourself or you put one foot in front of the other.
As Mother's Day approaches, my stomach begins to ache. It's a familiar, if old pain, tucked away in my soul, born of the loss of my son, Dan, killed at the age of 22 while working as Reuters photojournalist in Somalia more than 17 years ago.