I’m still a little unsure as to how I became one of the millions of people gripped by the events surrounding Kim family. I must have refreshed my browser about a thousand times yesterday – hoping they had finally found him. And then, they did.

Even though it began shortly after Thanksgiving, I hadn’t even heard about it until Sunday night, when I got back from being gone for the weekend. One of the first things Steve said was, “They still haven’t found that family yet.” When I shrugged, he quickly got me up to speed: A thirty-something couple with a 4-year-old and a 7-month-old were on their way back from a Thanksgiving holiday visiting family. (Sound familiar?) Then they were missing. At the point that Steve and I had this conversation, it had been over a week. We both hinted towards the same, sad resignation that they were probably gone.

We continued to loosely follow the story, and then on Tuesday, after some early morning internet reading, Steve got me up with the news that they had found the mom and girls. Although I was joyful, I was immediately sad. Where was the husband? When Steve told me that he had gone in search of help, the first thought that entered my brain was the last conversation they – as a family – must have had; their last hugs and kisses, I-love-you’s and their knowledge that this good-bye meant everything. From there, I became obsessed with the story – checking status reports between meetings at work, and throughout the afternoon when I got home, and praying with each click that there would be a headline saying that he was found alive.

As I have continued to follow the story (and it’s heartbreaking aftermath) it has become more clear to me why Steve and I (and millions of others) became so singularly interested in this one, small, relatively anonymous family from San Francisco. There was something about them and their situation in which we could all identify. They made the otherwise benign mistake of making a wrong turn. Something that, I am sure they, and all the rest of us have done – without incident – more times than we’d like to count. With the magic of hindsight their actions could be (and have been) nitpicked and criticized, however the majority of people following and chiming in realize that, at some point in our lives, we have all made decisions that would be considered far worse than taking a wrong turn and waiting too long to turn around…and we are all somehow lucky enough to be alive to tell about it. Immediately springing to mind is an unmarked “scenic route” we chose to take through the Utah desert (in July) wherein we didn’t see a soul for miles. Or when we traveled The Lonliest Highway from one side of Nevada to the other. They call it that for a reason. Additionally, I now also know the state of mind when traveling with kids in the car: GET THERE NOW. Forging ahead would probably have been high on our list as well.

I have put myself in their place about a million times, wondering how it is possible to live for 9 nights in a car with a baby and a child in freezing temperatures. How would you handle the questions of a child who is old enough to ask, but not old enough to understand? How could you say good-bye to your spouse knowing that it might be the last time you ever see them?

Needless to say, I was crushed when I got home yesterday and checked the news (again) only to find the blaring headline that James Kim’s body had been found. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember Stella asking me, “Mommy, what’s wrong?” To which, I could only answer that I had just read a very sad story. Steve and I talked briefly about it when he got home from work, and had slightly differing takes on the most tragic aspect of it’s outcome. He grieved for the kids; their loss, their inability to understand. I (although equally heartbroken for those sweet girls), couldn’t help but continue to think about his wife. I just continue to replay that moment when they had to agree on the decision that he should head out to look for help. I can only imagine the “what if’s” and “if only’s” that continue to loop through her brain.

I have been so amazed at my capacity to feel such acute sadness and empathy for a family that I have never met, but mostly look at it as a reminder to hug my kids and my husband and tell them how much I love them.