Last night as I lay in bed with Rachel, I watched her twirl her hair around her finger. She was having trouble falling asleep and I was trying to get her to join dreamland. I knew we were close as soon as I saw the twirl. Even as a baby, Rachel would twirl her hair with her finger when she was sleepy. I remembered her chubby little hand clutching her bottle and twirling, twirling with the other.
When Will was a baby he always wanted your finger in his ear when he was sleepy. Weird I know. Luke hated to be held. He would flip and flop until you put him down and tucked a blanket around him. He stills sleeps with his spiderman blanket wrapped around his head.
My Bella loves her musically toy. But it must be on the right setting. One night when her daddy went to get her in the middle of the night, she would not clam down. I went in and saw that the ocean seen was on her music box. I quickly flipped it to the star scene and she laid down at once to relax.
Comfort. When I need comfort, the best thing someone can do for me is to let me know they are thinking, praying, "there" for me, and then let me alone to wrap myself in my soft blanket and a book. Having been through what I consider some trying times, I know this about myself. Please, I know you mean well. But maybe your well wishes, advice, two cents just isn't what I need right now. I need to know I am thought of and loved. The fact that your Aunt Matilda has gone through this same thing, or it is for the best, or you will feel better in the morning, just might not do it.
And knowing what I know about comfort, I find myself doing the same to others. I love you. I am thinking about you. Sometimes constantly. But I offer no words of advice or wisdom. Because I simply have none. I don't know why horrible things happen to some of the most compassionate, wonderful people. I can't, nor do I want to find the reason. I don't like to wrap my head around that. The best I can offer is life can really suck. But hopfully you know even if it is silently, I stand beside you.