Miranda Barnes for The New York Times
RICHMOND, Va. — I wasn’t ready.
As a reporter, I had seen death at the hands of street gangs, and life in the hands of a surgeon placing a new heart into the chest of a 10-month-old boy.
But nothing had ever made me feel like this.
My arms grew hot, prickly. My legs would not move. My stomach cramped. Was I going to throw up? I felt sweat on my forehead. Tears pooled in my eyes. They were tears of sadness, then despair, finally anger.
I had tried to prepare myself: “It’s only going to be a statue.