Tears

In the past month or two, I have been putting myself "out there" for the world to see more and more.  I've been returning to activities that I had completely shut out of my life, like family dinners, work, social functions with a few friends, you get the idea.  I've noticed a common theme in those situations that I have been mulling over for a while.

Inevitably someone asks, "How are you doing, like how are you really doing?"  Or, maybe it's a variation of that like, "It's good to see you" followed by a hug that lasts longer than it once would have.  These moments usually bring me to tears, which then invokes the response, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."  I always say, "It's okay, I don't mind."  I don't think people realize I really mean that.

I have come to the conclusion that tearing up or crying at times like those are the best way I know how to share Alfy with others.  He isn't here for them to hold, hug or play with.  I can't give them that, but I can give them my tears.  They are all I have left to physically share with others.  It's not easy sharing tears.  Tears make people uncomfortable.

Tears are interpreted as signs of sadness and hurt, but there is so much more to them than that.  We fail to recognize the beauty behind them that accompanies our grief.  Those tears are not just about the sad moments that occurred, at least not for me.  Those tears include the moments that made me smile, like the first time I felt him kick and actually knew that it was a kick because I could feel it on the outside of my belly or the first time Tony and I heard his heartbeat and saw his "heart flap" on the ultrasound.  

So, the next time you bring tears to my eyes, please don't be sorry.  Just know that I'm taking an opportunity at that moment to share my son with you.