I can feel your pain in my physical body—- a fraction of a fraction of what you feel, dear girl. It’s like you’ve been in a train wreck, and I have a small splinter in my hand. I know my pain is small compared to yours, but I offer it as a prayer that God will ease your agony a little and give you hope. I feel it in my chest when I read your journals. And I am so glad you’re journaling. It is a good outlet and lets others know to pray for you; and to take one day at a time. I am the age of your mother or maybe your grandmother. Sixty seven. That sounds so old. And it is! I just want you to know that I love you and Harry. God bless you. May God give you strength and help and all possible comfort for your heart. Especially tomorrow.