The Moment That America Embraced

Janet Norwood , center, a guest of first lady Laura Bush, right, untangles the dog tags of her son Sgt. Byron Norwood from Safia al-Souhail's clothes. (Rich Lipski -- The W Ashington Post)

He was killed by a sniper Nov. 13 in Fallujah, while on his second tour of duty in Iraq.

Terribly proud of their son's sacrifice, Janet Norwood wrote Bush to say how devoted to his country her son had been, and how they still supported the war. The White House invited them to the speech, too.

That leads to Wednesday night, where the scripted met chance.

Al-Souhail was seated directly in front of Janet Norwood. While the various guests of honor were making small talk before the speech, al-Souhail heard Washington Mayor Anthony Williams introduce himself to Janet Norwood.

"She was telling the mayor, 'I wish that [Byron] was alive, so that he could see the success that he and his colleagues helped with the election," al-Souhail said. "When she finished, I turned around, stood up, and said, 'I'm Safia from Iraq. I heard what you said, and I'm here to tell you how grateful we are. . . . Hopefully, one day I can invite you to Iraq.' "

"I asked her if her finger was purple," Janet Norwood said yesterday on "Good Morning America," referring to the ink stains that proved a person had voted in Iraq. "She held it up and showed me it was. I grabbed her finger, and it would have made our son so proud."

Norwood shared pictures of Byron in Iraq, shortly before he was killed. The women exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses. The first lady arrived in the box, and the speech started.

Al-Souhail was recognized by the president first, showed her ink-stained finger to the congressional crowd and drew her own applause.

Then Bush turned to U.S. soldiers.

"We have said goodbye to some very good men and women, who died for our freedom, and whose memory this nation will honor forever," Bush said. "One name we honor is Marine Corps Sergeant Byron Norwood."

The camera cut to the Norwoods as Bush recounted the letter Janet Norwood had written to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, with grateful hearts," Bush said, "we honor our military families, represented here this evening by Sergeant Norwood's mom and dad, Janet and Bill Norwood."

The room stood and applauded, as was expected. Bill and Janet Norwood stood, too, side by side. Bill's arm moved behind his wife's back, pulling her close for a comforting embrace. Laura Bush turned and shook Bill Norwood's hand. Beside her, al-Souhail also turned, applauding.

And then Janet Norwood looked down. She smiled slightly, let go of her husband, and reached out with open arms to al-Souhail.

Al-Souhail reached up, and, with her arms around the dead soldier's mom, patted her back. Once, twice, several times, the thing mothers the world over do to comfort when words are not needed.

Janet Norwood's eyes shut tightly, her face buried in al-Souhail's shoulder, holding back the tears of losses that cannot be eased, only endured. The women's embrace was so unplanned that when Norwood started to pull back, the chain from her son's dog tags, which she had been holding, became entangled in al-Souhail's accoutrements. The women had to disentangle themselves on live television, the awkwardness lending the moment an unrehearsed charm.

It was, by any measure, magic.