Last night was one such night as poor Andie came into my office an hour after she’d been sent to bed, clutching the blankie her grandma gave her. “I can’t sleep,” she said, giving me a look bordering on panic. I offered the usual solutions (counting sheep, reading, thinking about something she’d like to do) before I finally realized what the real problem was.

“Come here,” I said, embracing her tightly. As soon as she put her arms around me, she started sobbing. I pulled her onto my lap and rocked her, feeling like it was 11 years earlier and she was the baby I had so tenderly comforted back then.

“A piece of my heart is going to be empty when she’s gone,” she finally managed, through her sobs.

I think that pretty much sums it up for all of us.