The first thing he wants to tell her is that she should've come to him sooner. That he could've helped her, though he doesn't know how. There's no helping someone through a loss of this magnitude; there's simply being there when needed. Not wanting to give her the impression that he's blaming her, however, when nothing else could be further from the truth, he just drops what he's holding, and turns in his chair to face her fully.

"C'mere," he says, waving her towards him with his one arm, and doing his damnedest not to feel as ridiculous as he probably looks. It's just not fair that she'd have to go through another loss so soon, but then, nothing about life is fair. He learned that lesson a long time ago; why it keeps surprising him so many years later is a mystery.