One Weekend.

Tears, stood in their rows, foot soldiers, waiting to be deployed. Tears of sorrow, tears of joy.

Sorrow for the mother that didn’t survive the birth. Sorrow for her husband who has no choice now but to navigate the road that they paved together, alone, knowing she’s taken one half of the road-map with her. Sorrow for the child who will come to learn what they know in their heart one day in their mind, some merciless time in the future.

And the next day, joy. Joy for the groom who stood alone in the room, cheeks flushed, learning how anticipation can stretch seconds into minutes. Joy for the bride whose head turned the corner one whole heartbeat sooner than her feet, such was her eagerness to see for herself, the man that she loves.

Tears that asked no questions, but were there when I needed them. God knows I needed them.