27 Names for Tears

Every time I think I'm coming to grips with losing BuHsi, it sneaks up and gets in my face again.  I've accepted that I'm going to cry myself to sleep until I'm 109 years old, but I thought that I was doing better during the day.

I'm tired of it, really.  Tired of crying, tired of people looking at me That Way, tired of going through enough Kleenex to stuff the Grand Canyon, tired of having eyes that look like I spend my evenings getting punched...  Just tired of grieving like this.

I wish that something helped.  I'd drink drain cleaner and pound nails into my forehead if it would stop.  I'd eat glass and listen to Celin Dion for the rest of my life if it would stop.  I'd vote Democratic, for gods' sake...

I can't forget her last breath......