Its been a long day, for no particular reason.  It was a good day, I just let the wrong things rub me the wrong way.  Yet again.  And instead of moving past them, I let them inside, and I stewed a little while.

But tonight…

Oh tonight.

Ive been crying for the past hour, because of something I saw, and my heart…it just breaks.

I know Ive written, more than once, about the man who died in the plane crash.  His family, who is left behind, is doing…such an awesome job at giving God the glory in this tragic time…but its still so hard, to see them going through this.

His daughter, who just turned 16 days before – who was a normally energetic, go with the flow, happy go lucky, kind of kid.  Who weve know since…well…she was born.  Of course, I was three or four at the time.  But still.  It counts for something.  We babysat them, and she was always smiling, always happy, always bubbling with jokes and excitement…

And the day her dad died, there was just something about that, like the spark left.

She still smiles, but I wonder how much of it is a fake smile, one to tell the world shes ok, while those who care to look a bit deeper would know, that really, shes hurting.

And it sucks.

To see them going through this.

Tonight we went to a get together with our church, because an old member was who had moved a few years ago – was back in town for a few days.  While her friends sat on the couch with him, laughing light heartedly, she sat across the room, unnoticed, smiling.  But silent.

It hurts, to see this.

Its hard, because I know how much they all loved each other – and now – well, now, hes gone.  And I just hurt for her.

I wish to give her back her innocent childhood, to hit system restore, and let her relive her birthday over and over and over again.  To never have to go through this.  To wake up from this nightmare, and hug her dad.  I wish there were some way to take his place, honestly.  To give them back their dad.

To take away their pain, to just let them be truly, happy again.

I hate to see them hurt, knowing that they do, but knowing that they try to hide it.

Her brother, who is almost 14 – was walking off the porch when their younger sister walked up with their cousin who is probably around 3.  He was crying…hurt from some physical pain, his cousin put his arm around him…told him he was ok, and then tried distracting him with his ball “Your tough” he told him.  “Your tough.  Just walk it off” I had to wonder, how much of that he was saying more for himself, than his younger cousin.

But at the same time, I couldn’t help but realize how much HE has grown up, this past month.

Sure, he was growing before, but he was growing under his dad, and now…now, he is somehow suppose to be taking his dads shoes, and walking beside them – even though they are empty.  “Your tough.  Just walk it off” I imagine he tells himself.  And I wish, for him too…that somehow, I could change the past, and give him back what he knew.

For his other two also.

For his wife.

His brother.

His dad.

I hurt.

For them.

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