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Carol Smith's son, Christopher Jr., Died suddenly when he was seven years old. This left Smith, a mother, devastated. She lay curled up on the bed with a saddle and spur pattern that they bought together at the Rose Bowl flea market. The faint smell of crayons, Band-Aids, plasticine, and baseball holsters floating in the room became the oxygen she relied on to survive. Smith wanted to use her arduous work to escape the pain of losing her child, until an article about progeria caught her eye. As a reporter, she came to the home of Seth, a child suffering from a rare incurable disease. Seth appeared in front of Smith with wrinkles on his face, exposed blood vessels, and cloudy eyes. What she didn't expect was that this skinny boy would bring her great strength. She began to see that Christopher's short life was not only suffering, but full of love and happiness; she realized that the length of life cannot measure a person's value, and only love can determine whether a person is worthy of this life. In addition to Seth, many people she has reported on - John, who was burned beyond recognition but still lives an active life, General Sally, who was once an all-powerful man but now has to fight the disease, Gerry, a nurse who works in hospice care but unfortunately suffered from breast cancer, etc., Have become her guiding light through the river of sadness. Curiosity about other people and their experiences in life allowed Smith to draw hope from other people's experiences and shared stories in a way she never expected, to bravely accept the gift of grief and heal her own broken heart.