Twenty-six years old, eyes closed, unable to move or talk, but I could feel her need to tell me how much she loved us.

I took her beautiful hand, that once was was as tiny as can be, and said to her, “We know you love us Laura.”

When I looked down, her eyes still closed, a large, lone tear streamed out from the corner of her eye toward her ear. She died a couple hours later.

My youngest child, my daughter.

I don’t just wish for five more minutes, I wish for a lifetime.

But if all I had right now was five minutes with her, I would ask these questions: Are you happy Laura?

Do you know how much I love you?

Nothing you ever did caused me to love you any less, do you realize that?

Was there anything that I did that made you sad? If so, will you forgive me?

How do you want me to live now that you are no longer here?

Those questions would probably exceed five minutes, but those questions would address two of the most important lessons of this life, forgiveness and love.

Time doesn’t heal, but it provides you with the opportunity to learn to live with the pain.