The outpouring of love following the incident highlights that while Mom may come first, she doesn't have to stand alone.
June’s body folded, then lay still, a scatter of hat and handbag and breathing. The breath—when it came—was shallow and fast. An older man cursed and called for an ambulance; someone else dialed. Brianna crouched beside her mother, fingers trembling as she checked for cuts, feeling the pulse thump under tissue that had nothing to do with tenderness. June’s forehead was damp where a lash of wood had grazed her temple. She blinked, confusion flickering like a moth. momcomesfirst240528briannabeachtheaccide