I Cried All The Way Home

By reading the title of this post one would think that I’m one of this little piggies but, alas, I am not.

Let me also preface this post by stating that Angela and I have two completely different views of making things public. While she is more reserved and private I’m willing to let people into almost every nook and cranny of my personal life. Granted, as a reader of anything I write you should understand that while I’m also letting you see what I want you to see and his have created a ‘public persona’ of sorts, one of a more or less happy-go-lucky-let’s-go-have-some-fun kind of friend. Let’s be real: I have the personality of a dog.

But there are times when I let you into some very, very personal issues. This is one of those times.

I just spent about 20-30 minutes bawling in my car and in my house and I’m not exactly sure why.

I had just finished my Sunday breakfast with my friend Amy and decided to go to Target and buy school supplies. Currently, Angela and I don’t have children but every year I take advantage of the tax free holiday to purchase school supplies for children in need. Every kid should have the tools to learn, right? Lacking the fundamental tools shouldn’t be an obstacle especially when you’re just starting school.

I’m in the school supply section, talking with other parents and picking out supplies when them and their kids when all of a sudden, as I’m picking up Angry Birds as well as a Hello Kitty backpacks and lunch boxes, an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Welling up from the pit of my stomach I could feel it start to affect me.

That was when I noticed that my eyes started to water. With each successive pencil case or folder that I picked up I felt a sense of loss. I decided to quickly finish my shopping. As I headed for the registers my mind started racing with several melancholy thoughts: I don’t have kids and may possibly never have any; somewhere is a child not fortunate enough to have school supplies; I remember the joy and agony when my parents had to buy me supplies; I may never get to buy these things for my own child like my parents; I miss my dad.

Happy birthday, dad…

On this day, which would have been my dad’s 74th, I was buying supplies for imaginary children – or at least children I’ll never get to meet. And I was sad. So very, very sad.

As the family in line before me completed their purchase and collected themselves to leave the cashier started ringing up my goods. She looked at the stuff and said,”Oh, your kids are going to love these backpacks and lunch boxes. Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?”

No. I didn’t forget anything. On the contrary, I started remember more and more things which swirled uncontrollably in my brain only to eventually released from my eyes in the form of tears.

I pushed my cart to my car and watched as the guy next to me open his trunk to put away his new vacuum cleaner while is small son happily hopped into the back seat and put on his seatbelt, holding up whatever toy he just scored as if he were a mighty hunter marveling at his latest trophy. And I choked back tears.

As I drove home the floodgates opened and I loudly wept. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I began gasping for air. More and more thoughts fought to bring themselves up to brain and I couldn’t control it. An immense sense of sadness and loss had decided to wreak havoc with me and I bawled down every road and at every light that I came to.

By the time I got home I was a mess. Bunsen greeted me at the door and I couldn’t help myself from crying so uncontrollably that as I tried to stop I began to hyperventilate. As Bunsen and Jinx nudged me to ask what was wrong I was pushed further over the edge when I thought “I miss Farley”.

Angela came down the stairs and asked what was wrong and we talked about everything I was going through. Which eventually leads me to here, writing all of this down. I don’t know what happened to me.