Perfecting the Silent Cry

Yes, living with waterproof mascara has become an evil necessity in my life. But I am proud to say that I am quickly becoming quite the expert at executing the perfect silent cry. Proud maybe isn't the right word but I'm claiming it at least. I never know when a cry is going to sneak up on me and take me into its relentless grasp. I will be driving in my car on the way to work in the morning or from one school to the next between meetings and as my thoughts wander my eyes water. Then my throat tightens and I swallow hard and quickly in an attempt to keep the tears from coming. At these times my attempts are feeble and I allow the tears to stream down my face. I concentrate on crying quietly without making a peep. I rationalize that the better I become at not making any noise maybe no one will notice if I cry in less private settings. I consider this practice.
I have been fortunate enough to control my tears in professional arenas. I am able to stay focused on the task at hand and as long as I don't begin to daydream I am pretty safe. I was even able to reference Lauren in a recent interview in front of the Superintendent of Schools for Hillsborough County and most of her staff. I was discussing the importance of keeping special education students in schools as close to their zoned schools as possible so they can bond with neighborhood friends. I related this to the fact that I personally observed Lauren struggle with this when she was young because we lived in one county and she attended school with me in the next county over. She never had the chance to attend school and form close relationships with the other kids in our neighborhood in Lakeland.  I spoke of my sweet Lauren and remained dry eyed the entire time. Not easy but successful.
Then there is church. Oh my do the tears come in church. Especially when Kevin and I attended service early on Easter morning. I was doing well until the singing started. I tried and tried to join in and sing as I usually do but I could not stop crying. Now I mean no disrespect here because I fully understand the meaning behind the celebration of Easter but could my pastor have said "death' or "grave" one more time? Just one more...because the first 30 didn't quite put me over the edge. Having put my daughter in her grave a mere two weeks prior did not make me the most receptive church member that day. But I made it through. I cried a lot and thank God Kevin brought enough tissues but I made it.
Then there are the visits to Lauren's grave. When I go alone I cry the most. Again, I attempt to display a strong front even when I'm with Kevin. When I am there by myself I weep. I weep because I just don't understand. I weep because I am angry that she is gone. I weep because I have so many things I want to tell her. I weep because there are so many things I wanted to see her do...graduate from college, teach kindergarten, fall in love and get married, have beautiful babies, and then take care of me when I have grown too old to care for myself. She always promised that she would be there for me and even said she wouldn't mind hanging out with me when I got old. She believed I would still be "cool" and we would be great friends.
Now she is gone. None of those expectations will be met. No dreams will be realized. Everything was shattered into a million pieces along with the pieces of the car that tragic morning. And that is why I am the best silent "cryer" in town. An honor I have reluctantly bestowed upon myself and one I could have lived without.