People Dying

I had a daughter who was the perfect kid.  She hit an age, 10-11, that was ideal for her.  Everything about her was suited to that time.

One day I caught her crying.  What’s wrong, sweetheart?  I don’t want to grow up, Dad.  I like being a kid.

I hugged her and told her it would be OK.  And it was OK.  She’s a good, even a great teenager.

But she was also right to cry.  The girl she once was still echoes, but that year or two of perfection is gone and who knows if she will ever hit her stride quite like that again.  And it is still gone even if she does; no matter how perfect the rhythm, it won’t ever be quite the same rhythm.  She was right to cry.  I should have cried for her too.

Today was Betsey’s dying day.

The only solution to grief and pain

Is to restore

All

That was lost.