Passers By

I am late posting today. I slept, finally, all the way through a night. I slept more than two or three hours; in fact, I slept nine. I took William and Ellie to their middle school where things are slower, smaller, and more flexible. It was a choice we made after COVID for many reasons, some of which are now being revealed. I am grateful for their school community more than ever today.

I did not burst into tears this morning, following their lead and in service to their needs. Making their breakfast in the morning was his pleasure, and today it was my heartache, hoping I could get it just right. I did not burst until I pulled out of the parking lot, and back onto the road home. When I crossed the river, it was a floodgate opening. Driving and crying is a thing. I have done it many times. I’ve passed others and noticed their sobs and tears as they pass me on the road. I am actually a huge proponent of public crying.

Last summer, I stopped to talk to a young man at a water park. He was sitting on a step sobbing and talking on the phone. I asked him if he was okay, if he needed anything. He said he had support and was going to be okay. He did not look okay. I wondered for months what had happened to him, or what news he was hearing on his end of the line.

I have been making those calls that leave others in shock and despair. There is not gentle way to do it, really. And then, whoever I am speaking to is crying wherever they are.

We yell and get ridiculously angry in public. We scream and cheer on little league teams, soccer teams, and football teams. We even yell at the television during pro-games. We act outrageously at school board meetings. We dance, we laugh, we get drunk and act like fools. So, yes, we get to cry out there inn public spaces for all to see, too.

I have had many of visits with friends in the grocery store who needed to cry. For some reason it seems to happen most often on the isle where the pickles are. I often have cried with them there by the pickles as shoppers squeeze past us. Once, I even cried with a friend whose precious grandmother had just died. We were outside of the grocery store doors for all to witness. Public crying needs to be okay, as okay as any of the other behaviors we release and share in the world.

So, you might see me leading this social movement in a bigger way these days. Do not be afraid of my tears or the ones coming through your eyes. Do not be afraid of the pain that arises in your heart. It is empathy and compassion, and the world needs more of it. Resist the temptation to abandon your body for your cognitive brain that wants to fix this. This is not fixable. This cannot be repaired. It is loss, and it can only be grieved. Open to that.

The birthday season for our family continues somehow. Today is my oldest daughter’s birthday. Brigid (Cait) is 24 today. She is a blessing and a gift to this world, and has been my partner in mothering lately. Two big sisters and a brother are really just the best thing ever for William and Ellie, and for me too. The sounds of their chatter and playfulness, their quieter conversations in various rooms of the house make my home still feel alive, worth living in.

It feels utterly silent right now except for the knowing that my oldest child rests in the back room. His presence here has been continuous, and grounding.

Today, I am determined to do three tasks to fill the hours before my two youngest come home from school. It is unthinkable that I will not wave at Edmond when we pass each other on the roads through town on these errands. We passed each other all the time, daily. I still want only to be with him. I want to have him by my side and I want to be by his. I want to feel his strong arms, and his hand in mine. Today, I reach out for his hand—maybe I will feel him in some way. The emptiness of my open hand is unbearable.