Today I didn't get much writing time in. A couple from our old church in Brooklyn stopped by. They brought me dim sum and bubble tea from Chinatown. It made me remember our bubble tea phase, Dan. I'd order Taro and you'd order the Bubble Milk Tea- you'd always ask for tapioca, but not too much.
We went for a walk on the river with Audrey and they listened to me. On the way back, I interrupted them because I saw two red-tailed hawks flying nearby. I'd never seen two before together. They sat in the living room while I described what it was like to receive that phone call and tears welled up in all of our eyes. I am grateful for shared tears- that someone other than me finds all of this incredibly sad. It makes me feel normal.
A lot of people think that a grieving person wants those around them to be "strong" for them, not cry. At least for me, I have found it is the opposite. When someone is looking at me with tears in their eyes as I speak, I know they feel it too. I look in their watering eyes deeply as I speak and I do not look away.