“Very much.” Amy’s mind was four years back in time. Silas had been scheduled to leave for home in two days. They were talking up on the bluff behind her house, seated beneath the big oaks. The spot was Amy’s favorite thinking place. “Do you think about her all the time?” “Not so much now, but right after she died I thought about her constantly.” Amy was silent for a long time. When she turned to Silas, there were tears in her eyes—the first he’d seen. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “It’s not fair that she’s gone and now you’re leaving, too.” “Oh, sweetheart,” was all he could say as he folded her within his arms. Amy sobbed then. The arms holding her close and the loving endearment were too much. The tears came in a torrent. Silas continued to hold her and speak quietly to her, stroking her hair and calling her sweetheart. He told her God understood her pain and that He was there for her. Amy could not remember anything after that. The next day Silas had told her she had cried herself to sleep in his arms.
