Gone

I tried to look scared, you said I looked cold and helpless. You told me it would be okay, tucked my hair behind my ears and finished your thought.
"Tomorrow," you started "will be a lot different. Different than yesterday, and today even. It's not going to be okay right away. Hell, it might not be okay for weeks. But you, me, we, us- we'll make it. Maybe not together, but in the long run, we'll manage. We'll do our best and if it doesn't work, my god we tried."

Is there a way to make sense of this?

(My god, we tried.)