Weeping with those who weep

For a week now, one of our daughters has been struggling deeply. She misses her brother terribly. She asked if it was always going to be like this, if it would ever get better. She said she was afraid that she'd never stop crying. She doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything or see anybody. I remember feeling exactly that way in the beginning, as well.

I cried with her. I hurt with her. I hurt for her. I feel helpless. Helplessness is a horrible feeling, for I know there is nothing I can do; I can not take away her pain. I can, however, point her to God, who is our comforter. I can speak truth to her. I can offer what little comfort I have to her with the comfort which I myself have received. (2 Cor. 1:3-4)

I told her that it wouldn't always be this painful; it will get better, but it will take a long, long time. I told her that the tears will eventually be fewer and farther between. I told her that God understands and because He understands, we can be honest with Him. (Isaiah 53:3) Then I asked her if she would like to wear my eternity necklace that has Matt's name engraved on it. She's been wearing it since. I also told her she could sleep with his blanket/comforter (the one he used to have on his bed) if she wanted, which she has. She went to GriefShare with me on Monday, as well.

All I can do is pray for her, speak God's truth to her, and give her the right tools for how to deal with her grief. She's painted this week, too. What writing is to me, painting is to her. I'm thankful she has an outlet. In the meantime, I weep with my daughter.