I am so sorry. I almost knew your pain. I know how it felt when you got that call, the call that things weren’t looking so good. I know that feeling when the doctor tells you that it is going to take a miracle. I know what it feels like to watch the church elders come pray over your parents, I know...but I don’t.

My dad got the miracle, he survived the widowmaker heart attack. But I live with the knowledge that, someone else’s parent didn’t get that lucky, didn’t get that miracle.

I am so sorry that you have to deal with the pain I felt for a few months that you have to carry for the rest of your life. That no matter what you would have traded, you couldn’t save them.

I am sorry that you have to see your friends enjoy years with their parents while you have memories and a hole in your chest. I still can’t do much with my dad, he is weak, but he is here.

I am so sorry that at your young age, you have had to endure watching your other parent lose half of them. I know what it is like, to see that look in their eyes, the dullness. I know what it is like to have to step up and become an adult, way too fast.

I am sorry that when people ask if you’re okay, you have to fake a smile and say yes, only to have that twinge of pain reminding you how not okay you really are. I know that, the hardest fight is keeping the tears back until you’re alone, trying to be strong for everyone.

I am so sorry that I got to keep my parent and you did not. I know how hard it is, I am sorry. I am sorry that I can’t relate to you and that I don’t know what to say. I know that asking how you are or if you’re okay isn’t the right thing to do, but sometimes, that is all I can muster to say. How am I supposed to look at you knowing that pain you have felt...except I don’t. I’m here seems to be the best response. So, if you’re reading this and you need someone who knows what you’re going through...almost, I’m here.