I feel like growing up, for me, moments when I saw my parents cry were few and far between. I remember seeing my mom cry a few times after an argument (she’s an angry crier, as am I). She cried when Princess Diana died, and when my brother joined the Army. And in my adult life, she cried when my grandfather died and when my father died. I’m sure she has cried many times that I haven’t seen, but those are the moments I have witnessed, and the times my father cried openly, were as few. But consistently, saying goodbye at the airport has been moments of shared tears between us.
I don’t want to dwell on the tears we shared today in the airport, or the tears I shed as I drove home and the tears I will inevitably cry when the kids go to bed tonight. She stayed with us a month this visit, and I want to focus on the happiness that I have felt, the experiences we shared as a family. So tonight, I will flick through the photos we took, I will look at my kids smiling faces, and I will focus on the joy.
I hope you can find the happiness beneath the tears, as they can often be the most therapeutic and cathartic.