Yet another thing for which I don't have the answer.

Libby is with her dad this week. She's down at the house that she associates with Katie, the property on which Katie died. And she's sad and lonely, and she feels like no one gets it. And she wants to come home. 

I'm here. 850 miles away. I can't fix it. If ever I wished for Star Trek technology it's now. 

(Goddamn it, Jim! The teleporter is not working.)

All I can do from afar is to try to mediate the distance between a hurting thirteen-year-old girl in all of her awkward glory and her equally hurting dad who has never been a thirteen-year-old girl. 

All I want to do is rock my baby and hold her when she cries. Really both my babies, but my earth baby is hurting more than my angel baby. 

I just had to take some time and explain to Joe some of what she's feeling so that he can grasp a small bit of it. God bless the fathers of girls. They sincerely don't have a clue when they're blindsided by emotion they've never even heard of before now. And God bless Joe because his load is that much heavier now. 

(I'm still mad at God. Don't take my God blessing and God damning as a change.)

I need peace and serenity to say and do the right things. The only thing going for me at this point is that my understanding is that there is no right answer because there is no wrong answer. As long as I do things out of love, things should turn out okay.  

I just need to hold on for one more day (and then one more day, and then....)