She slips from the bed, eyes bleary from sleep. "Let's go get Daddy," she says, pausing then continues on, "he's here."
"No sweetie, he is still gone."
"I felt him in bed with us."
"Oh honey," I whisper, tears forming in my eyes.
"I know he is here."
"Come here Gwennie, let me hold you." Her small body climbs into my lap, and holds me tightly.
"I had a dream about Daddy was home?" she asks her blue eyes peering into mine as I attempt, unsuccessfully to hold back the flood of tears.
"Yes, and it was a good one, huh? We really miss our Daddy, and can't wait for him to come home."
Its these simple things that hurt the most. I can put most of the feelings out of my mind easily, and pretend to be fine. But when the girls express sadness and longing for their Daddy, that is when my heart breaks in two, because its the one thing I can not give them.