The comfortable Norman Rockwell beginnings drifted into a director Tarantino ending and I come away from this grief-stricken and sick to my stomach for you.
How does one offer any consolation that is worthy to the grievers without sounding awkward and cliche-ish?
The horror is too much to bear and I will ask for God's healing grace to cover you as long needed for Amy's sake.
I regret clicking on this story and knowing your personal pain, I don't want you to suffer any more for this incredible loss.
Mr. Kraken, please, let go and let God take that hurt and somehow, in His supernatural way, turn it around.
Somehow, someway, God's little auburn angel will see you again some day.
Plase accept my pitiful prayers on your behalf.
Sick in my Soul,
stormy
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