The Ugly Cry

I’ve been doing a lot of crying this week. I’ve tried to avoid the VT coverage.

Honest.

I just can’t help myself at times. Plus I have the nephew “who was there”. I get daily updates from little sister on how he is doing (not talking about it, left school Monday).

We all talk about it. Everywhere we go.

Yesterday afternoon our youngest came home from school, ran up the stairs to find me. He intercepted me coming out of my room, having just blown my nose for the gazillionth time. I had even splashed my face with cold water.

I gave him a smile and he said (with a wrinkle of his upper lip), “what’s wrong with your face?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What’s wrong with your nose? It’s bright red and really gross.” He said this in the way that only an 11 year old boy could.

I decided to be honest.

“I’ve been crying because I’m sad about the Virginia Tech shootings.” Instantly, in a melt-your-heart moment, he reached out and patted my arm.

“Oh.” He said.

He threw his arms around my waist and laid his head against my chest.

“I understand,” he gently told me.

To bring me completely to my knees.

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