It’s tough to worry about somebody who lives 700 miles away. When all I can do is be the voice at the other end of the phone, the words on her computer screen, the love in her heart.
It’s tough to know she needs help and to know that if I was only there, I could at least do something to help. But I’m not.
It’s tough when I’m disappointed in those who are trying to help her, and can’t find the words to express both my gratitude for what they’re trying to do and my frustration at what they aren’t doing.
It’s tough when I feel I should be there sooner, but can’t find a way to make it happen.
I hate waiting. I hate waiting even more when I know I’m needed where I can’t be yet.