I don't cry much. I've always felt the need to appear like I always have it together.
I was thinking about my mom last night. She's been laying in the hospital for a few weeks, again. I haven't seen my mom outside of a hospital room more than a handful of times this year. Things are getting worse before they're getting better.
I thought about how I haven't been able to go to my mom's house to pick her up and take her for a drive. We missed the farmer's market in Barberton this year. We didn't go to Amish Country to see the giant Cuckoo Clock. She got to see the seasons change from either windows on the 10th floor in downtown Cleveland, or from the screen of my phone.
There have only been glimpses, brief moments of the outdoors. Otherwise, it's all indoors. In a bed.
I cried the kind of tears that come from really deep within. Those grief tears. Those tears where even if you try and stop them, they keep coming.
I really needed to cry like that.