There is a routine, painful but necessary.  Every day, I put on a smile and a positive attitude, just like I put on a pair of socks or a jacket.  It is not indicative of my mental or emotional state – it is just apparel that is appropriate.

I look in the mirror and I see an old, tired face looking back – and I see a smile.  It is a normal smile, not too broad and not smug.  Just an average looking old smile.

I also see eyes, with no smile – eyes on the verge of tears – eyes just staring back in disbelief.

Yes, the object in the mirror appears acceptable for public appearances – but is much more broken than appearances indicate.

But, it is necessary, you see, to wear the smile.  My tears are private.

I do carve out private time – when I peal off the smile and I give myself permission to express my grief.  Usually, I am walking my dog.  You know, there is a comfort in a good, faithful, loving dog.  He gives me a safe place to cry.

My wish for anyone in pain or grief is that they have at least one place, one friend – that is a safe place to “let it go” and cry, wail, rage, sob – whatever is healing.