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Breaking Point
We were driving yesterday, and Abigail was forlorn. I was there for her, recognizing her pain, acknowledging it, endorsing its validity, but there was nothing I could do. Trying to cheer her up artificially would have gone something like this scene from Animal House:
You know, breaking beer bottles over my head. In other words, I was there to be a solid source of support. And then she started messaging with my sister. As her thumbs flew and the little clicking sounds clicked away (I love that they make it like a keyboard when you type on your phone) she started to giggle. We hardly ever get to see this sister, but she is so much fun. It was, apparently, just what herself needed. It was as if the sadness and grief had built of a hard shell of gloom over her, and her expansive smile and giggles first cracked, then shattered it, letting it fall away. She's not done grieving, but she is better, and will get better still more as time goes on and she experiences the joys that flow into our lives unbidden. I'm so grateful that I'm able to help sustain her as she heals, but moreso am I grateful to my sister for being just a funny person who brings sunlight that cuts through the gloom for my wife. Onward and upward.