To save her

It is dark tonight, Mel. You have traded so much precious life en masse in exchange for the ruling handed down from a stranger. A justice-seeker who does not know your heart, does not know your husband's, who cannot grasp your grief.

And for this I weep internally. It is as though my heart has sopped the tears and heartache, the questions and confusion and the time - all of that time - as though my heart has tried to soak it in, just a bit for you. I hope to share your pain in order to ease it and know it cannot be so.

You will not know that a young woman with bobbed hair and pajamas wraps herself in a patchwork quilt tonight and writes her aches into the folds of the Internet and tries to let you know that you are strong. That she sees those photos, those endless, interfering photos of you across the headlines, and sees your internal strength, your compassion and grace. This process has aged your worry over that little girl you love. It has stolen moments that were meant to give life and instead handed you empty arms and no outcome.

It is dark tonight, Mel. I hear my breath in the quiet evening and I admire each time you have stood before a judge and allowed him to determine your merit amid the legalities, allowed them to shower you with questions and cross-examinations while others scoff at you.

You are strength, you are dignity. And I pray that this dark evening is soon enveloped by the bright burst not only of news, but of the good news for which you have longed for these past three years.