Because, you know, advocacy.
Or maybe because I have a twisted sense of humor.
As we were leaving, a woman smiled at us and asked how old she was. And while dealing with the gen pop is not one of my strong suits (talking! strangers!), something in her voice made me smile and slow.
"My son is… my son was…"
Her son was 50 but had passed. She said he was a gift and touched everyone who met him.
Which was why I was hugging this unnamed woman three seconds after we met, and crying, and kissing my girl, who was alarmed and urgently signing "home." The long drive and missed appointments and everything else gnawing at me was forgotten.
We joke about being members of this club, and there are hard things that come with it, but not much else will move me to hug complete strangers.