Day by day, oh, dear Lord, three things I pray To see thee more clearly Love thee more dearly Follow thee more nearly, day by day Every day brings with it so many different feelings as I sort through this pain. There is so much of it written through these pages for every one here. I have deep sorrow for all. I have found much relief here, been amazed by peoples strength, been comforted to know that I am not alone, relieved to see that there is progress in some of my cyber friends difficult children. Feeling blessed to have found a place to safely express my woes. Yet still there is that emptiness in having two children lost in their ways. I miss them. The real them. Not the drama infused, crazed them that they are now. I haven't spoken or heard from my daughters in almost a month now. It is a part of this roller coaster ride that I try to be tough about, but the feelings still work at me. Some days I can push it aside, other days the emptiness is like the slow drip of a leaky faucet, there, I am able to press on through, until the noise of it permeates everything. I am juggling with the silliest of things in comparison to some of your troubles. It is such a small thing, but such a big thing. A friend at work who knows some of my story suggested I text affirmations to my daughters. The oldest, I do not even know if she has a cell phone, the middle, I have not gotten past the sting of our last parting. It is not only the screaming tirade of insults and hurtful things, but the events leading up to it. I have gone through this many times, but this is the first time I have heard such abusiveness screamed at a decibel rate I would not think humanly possible, and prolonged. The words echo in my ears. The look on my grandchildren's faces etched in my memory.I know it was a tantrum from a 27 year old not in her right mind. But it was still wrong, and hurtful. She accomplished her mission. As I go through the motions of picking up the pieces, working, housekeeping (well, sort of) the last encounter with her is fading, but the wound is still there. I want to reach out to her as a mother, but at the same time, do not want to minimize her actions. Is it my pride? Am I stubborn? Am I weak? Have I fallen into the trap of her silent treatment, for I know this game all too well. It is a familiar road. It is a deep void.I do not feel that I should make the first move. Check. Checkmate. UGH. I am sad, but I am angry. I do not want to be the first to attempt contact. I feel that it will minimize her actions. I am waiting, waiting for an apology that will probably never happen. I am also allowing myself time to heal. I am also fearful of opening the door, rekindling a relationship that has been fraught with sorrow, troubles, blame and ugliness. I miss my daughter, not the person she is right now. So, today,please forgive me Lord, but I am not ready to pick up the phone.