I buried my 3 year old daughter many years ago. So you actually got your wish and didn’t realize it. Go ahead — now you get to call me a “miserable person”. Thing is, I never used my child’s death as an excuse or rationalization or means to deflect when I was faced with someone disagreeing with me.
Frankly, it is miserable to go from one annoying experience with one annoying guy to omigodrapistseverywhere!!!11!, and I choose, as an independent, self-sufficient adult, to disagree with that opinion.
In my case, on one of my lowest days, when my grief must have been written all over my face, a man presented me with a rose he’d purchased because he could tell how sad I was. He didn’t know why, he just wanted to do something nice for someone, and I was tremendously grateful. I considered his act one of the many little gifts that got me from day to day during that time. But I guess I should have screamed RAPE! and publicly shamed him for daring to do something nice. Because THE PATRIARCHY!!!11!! Or something.