The continuining beauty of night...

I have a friend whose daughter died. She was 18 months old.
There is no way to justify why this happened outside of their daycare provider was negligent and only in it for the money. She was licensed for 6 kids, but was caring for 15 at the time of Ava's passing.
I want to understand this loss, I do.
I want to be comforting to my friend, but know that my loss was different. I cannot identify with what she is going through, nor her me. Our losses are different. It doesn't mean that one is more significant than the other. It just means, that loss is loss, and that we both ache for the people we love.
Every now and then I check up on her. I want to.
Again, I don't know 100% or even 20% of what to say. But, I know that it is important to let her know that she isn't alone in this.
Today, I sent her an update of my trip to Maine and how fantastic it was to be able to talk about Brian with someone that understood my pain. I encouraged Alecia to keep running, in spite of her on-going injuries and inquired about her day.
She wrote me back and it broke me heart.
Of course, she has siblings that are pregnant.
She has nieces and nephews.
She has all of these visible reminders in her home of her life with Ava.
I wrote her back with what I knew to be true...Breathe...go outside and look at the moon.
For whatever reason, the moon and the sun, both, are very calming to me. The moon, more so, because I envision that Brian, too, is enjoying the tranquility and beauty that is projected by the moon. I feel better when I am in the moment, able to visualize him in my life, as it is now, not before, but presently. The moon enables peace of mind and of heart.
So, yes, I told Alecia to breathe, be and go outside. I hope this brings her peace.