I want my momma

As I entered the front door after returning from an all-day outing, I heard a loud cry from upstairs; I quickly disarmed the alarm and proceeded upstairs to my youngest daughter’s room. As I entered her room, she was kneeling, bent over her bed, looking at a picture of her momma on her phone, and still crying. I tried to tell her it would be alright, but I couldn’t. I wanted to say to her that God was in control, but I didn’t; as my tears started, I felt helpless and hopeless because Daddy could not give her what she needed and wanted: her momma.