Town Crier

April 28, 2024

Dear Mitch,

I believe my new name is the Town Crier.

The tears appear out of nowhere. I don’t believe there is a place in town where I haven’t sobbed. Do I care? Nope! This is who I am nowadays.

I have wept so much that my eyes are perpetually red-rimmed and dry. I had to see an optometrist to be sure nothing else was wrong because my eyes were constantly seeping.

Anyone who asks me, “How are you doing?”

better be prepared to see tears flow down my cheeks. I believe there is a coded message floating around town about me because I have the most gracious community who just let me weep as they hug me.

I guess it’s suitable

because I feel like I’m under an unending dark thunder cloud, and my tears are rain. I imagine the Adams family being constantly surrounded by darkness. I must be the Town Crier Aunt, a new addition to their story.

Susan asked me to stay at their place during another snowstorm after you died because she didn’t want me to be alone. One night, we had all gone to bed. I couldn’t sleep because all I could think about was how much I missed and wanted you back. I had buried my face in the pillow to avoid bothering anyone, as my sobbing was fairly severe. Susan had the “twin sense” and came into the room, crawled in with me, and simply held me till the tsunami subsided. She did not say anything; she only hugged me. That’s what I needed.

People allowing me to cry in public

and hugging me is exactly what I need right now. The hugging because I miss human touch. It’s not you, which hurts more than I can say, yet feeling a tender touch means everything. It keeps me connected to the living world, even when I don’t feel like I’m here at all.

Loving you through my tears,
Nicole

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