The little girl stared into her Mothers eyes. Innocently curious, and yet still had the patience for her mother to attempt to gather the correct words.
"Mommy? Where is daddy?" she asked again, this time with a hint of worry.
A moment of silence took place as the mother tried her best to find the best way to explain it. Nothing came to mind, either too sad, or avoiding the question completely.
"Honey, Daddy" She began tenderly, " Daddy can't be with us anymore." Without the young girl having to say another word, she knew that answer wouldn't suffice. How do you tell a little girl the age of 7 that her daddy had died in a terrorist attack a few days prior. They never found any trace of him, the last they had seen of him was the silhouette as he waved out his car window to them in the early morning, before going to work.
"Is it because of the accident at daddy's work?"
"Yes," sighing the mother tried to explain again, " he was in the building when the airplane hit it, and so God took him up to live with him. He Loved," she thought for a moment, "LOVES you very much. He didn't want to leave you."
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