our baby died in utero, and I had to stand there in the delivery room and watch my wife deliver our little girl. I couldn't cope, so I got drunk. I got stinking drunk, and that's when I saw you, and I just snapped. I am sorry if I hurt your arm. I'm not proud of myself, and I apologize again. Can I pick up the tab for your dinner?"

How can I stay mad at this person when he just lost his child? "What's your name?"

"My name is Ralph Barker."

I reach out and shake his hand. "My name is Michael Jessup. I am sorry for the loss of your daughter. Why don't we just forget about what happened that night, okay? Both of us are dealing with somethingeasier living with the loss?"

I think about her question and answer honestly. "It doesn't get easier, Gina, but I am learning to accept and to live with it. I hope that one day in the future, I can let go of the memories that still wake me up at night."

Gina looks at me with pain in her eyes. She reaches over to hold Ralph's hand.

"That's how I feel every day. I wake up with an emptiness that takes my breath away. The core of my being feels hollow without my baby. I keep asking myself if the loss of our daughter is my fault. My doctor told me that the umbilical cord was wrapped around my daughter's neck, but I can't live with that. I'm afraid to get