November 3

My Abby, my first-born and only daughter, turned 9 years old today. Nine. Already halfway to adulthood.

Time has effectively weathered my more precise memories of that day in 2004, but I remember the emotions of the big picture; the overcast skies; the uncertainty that comes with experiencing labor for the first time; the sound of the doctor telling me 'it's a girl'... we didn't find out in advance, and I'd convinced myself that she was a boy (since I was not-so-secretly desperate for a girl) so the words rang in my ears like the sweetest music I'd ever heard.

Fast forward to today. You may not see it, but that girl in the picture is one of the strongest, bravest, more tenacious people I know. She had to watch her very best friend in this entire world be sick, go through appearance-altering treatment, and then die. I don't talk about it much because it breaks my heart to remember, but Abby was there the day Logan passed on. She decided, on her own accord, to come into the room to say good-bye to her best friend before he moved on. She did that, at just seven years of age. She said good-bye and I love you and I'll see you again. It destroys me to remember that moment and the tears in her eyes.

But the strength that grew from that moment... it's truly remarkable.

Sure, she drives me crazy and sometimes we don't get along. But I will always be in awe of her ability to put her own fears aside so she could be there for her little brother in such a tangible way. I'm in awe of how she gets up and goes to school and does well despite her loss. I'm in awe of her when she smiles, because I know that she lives with the same heartache as me, only I'm an adult and she's just a little kid. I'm in awe of that maturity.

She is an amazing person, and I'm blessed that she's my daughter.