The sight of another's pain for which I cannot help nor know the source devastates my sense of friendship and belonging. It's strange, my helplessness, in the face of the unknown. Even more so when I think of the possibilities, which run wild and free, that might cause her to mourn so. The most treacherous of which makes my heart scream just thinking about it. Virtue of the world's order would be spoiled upon hearing of this circumstance. If it were the case though, certainly I would know; someone would have told me of the change in condition which a plethora of family are watching with utmost respect and love. So the real cause must be less tragic, less severe and less timeless. Prying is not my style and I'll wait for the time which words will manifest truth to be heard. Until such time, I can only make myself available, attempting wholeheartedly to bring back that smile which lights the face with Grace. It's my way of not remaining helpless; to help regain a lost spark in darkened times where light is treasured above the self.
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