I watered the morning glories in the butterfly garden I started in the spring. It won't be long until they are blooming beautiful blue breakfast plates with soft pink throats. I planted them because they are Jack's favorite flower. While I was talking to Jack's big sister this evening, I told her about the little garden and she asked, "Do you think he knows?"

"About the garden?" I want to believe that he does.

"Well. That, yes. But. Do you think he knows how much I miss him?" her voice was thick with tears. "Do you think he knows how much we love him? Do you think he knows how empty and lonely it feels without him around?"

Sometimes, when Georgie is heart broken, I can be strong. Sometimes, she holds it together while I fall apart. But often, we sit, 200 miles apart, weeping together, falling apart together, heart broken together.

“There is a sacredness in tears.
They are not the mark of
weakness, but of power.
They speak more eloquently
than ten thousand tongues.
They are messengers of
overwhelming grief, of deep
contrition, and of unspeakable
love.”
---Washington Irving