My daughter is dying.
“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry!” You are stunned. You clutch your heart.
Of course you are sorry, but my daughter is dying.
“How terribly sad for you,” and you fall silent, uncertain what to say.
But it’s more than sad. My daughter is dying a slow and frightening death.
“Oh, dear,” you comfort, “that is so tragic.” And you thank your god it’s not your child.
But it’s worse than tragic, even worse than that. My daughter is so young, so beautiful, and she is slowly dying before my eyes.