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I awoke to the sound of her screaming. I rushed upstairs as she slowly made her way downstairs. Her face was wet with tears. I swallowed my own grief as I attempted to tend to hers. I was overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness as I told her to take a seat and reminded her how to breath. She followed my instructions and than her entire body shook as it comprehended its loss. The screaming began again and I felt myself start to suffocate under the weight of what I’d now have to face. I wasn’t sure we could survive this. She began to speak an unfamiliar language. Somehow, I knew she was asking questions. She couldn’t understand why and neither could I. I had nothing to offer to fill the developing void. I cried not just for what was now gone, but for her. Nothing is more damaging to me than the sight of her in pain…