Save the drama for your mama

Yup, it's true. The past two weeks I've been crying at the drop of a hat. Which is quite annoying, as it's happening on Bart, and at work, at the grocery store, and well, pretty much everywhere. Ugh. So NOT cool. It's over such small things, too. But the reality, I know, is not small. The reality is that grief has it's own timeline. April and May were go-go-go. June was finishing up summer semester. July was big projects at work and a promotion. August is ... well, I guess August is time for grieving to begin in earnest.

Over the weekend we attended my in-laws 50th wedding anniversary. It was very lovely, and they are incredibly sweet people - it's no shocker that they're celebrating their Golden Anniversary. There were group photos taken, one of which was "just the kids" with the parents, so Alan, his sister and the granddaughter were called over to have a photo taken with the bride and groom. I started to walk over too, but then realized that my name wasn't called. Which is fine, I mean, I'm not their child or grandchild. I'm not blood. And that's okay, but I was surprised at how sad I was about it. Why was I so sad? It took me several days to realize why ... I'm no one's child anymore. No one can claim me as their daughter. Even 18 years married into a family doesn't actually make me family. My mom will never beckon me over for a family photo. I'll never feel that unconditional love again, and it breaks my heart.

(Check out my mom's frustrated look at me, her darling, screaming baby. Yeah, that's some unconditional love!)