Today the tears prick so close to the surface that I fear they will spill at any moment. Today, Friday morning, 4 years ago, the phone rang.
“Harry has had a fall.”
Today, I will allow my tears to fall. A hot stream of silent tears hidden behind tinted car windows. Silently falling past dark sunglasses. Tears of grief, shed in secret.
A grief that I don’t know I want to feel, should feel or even do truly feel any longer.
I don’t want you to see my tears. I don’t want you to misunderstand my tears.
They are not for what, some may think, we don’t have. Perhaps they are for what we once had…perhaps.
They are tears of shock remembered. Tears of grief remembered. Reliving nights of stillness, of confusion, of fear. The quiet beeps of monitors and comforting, consistent woosh woosh woosh of the ventilator.
4 years of learning. 4 years of therapy, meditation and mindfulness to accept and embrace a new path.
Our vision is different now. We are good and we are happy.
But today, the tears will fall. And I will let them.