Alyson looked back at me with a look in her eyes that simply said daddy. I looked at the fear in her and asked if she wanted me to come with her. She softly whispers,
“yes”
So I find myself sitting in the chair to the left of her, as the dentist starts to recline her to get a better look at her teeth, the paper bib placed on her chest has started to shake from her trembling body beneath. I reach to place my hand in hers and tell her gently that every thing will be ok. Her breathing slows.
I think as humans we have this need to reach out to those that are hurt. Especially as a man, I want to fix it, to make it better, to protect those so close to my heart. To simply reach out my hand and let them know everything will be ok.
As I sat in that chair, I couldn't help but think of you and our conversation the night before. How I wished it was as simple to offer you comfort as it was with my daughter. From the moment you said hello I could tell something was hurting you, and all I could do was listen. My instincts kicked in and my mind was in a flurry trying to figure out how to fix it, how to make it better, how to make this suffering leave you. I found myself powerless, without a remedy to cure your heart. I long for the words to comfort you, but I can offer no relief. My only tool is no tool at all, and I'm left with nothing more to offer but my ear. Helpless to reach out my hand to yours and let you know everything will be ok.
