I’m really not a crier. Not at movies, when I’m sad, when I’m frustrated, nothing. It just doesn’t happen. My entire family is that way, we just aren’t wired to shed tears.

I flew home for a funeral two months ago and my mom’s best friend from childhood came over, sobbing her condolences as she handed us boxes of muffins and pastries. After she left, the three of us looked at each other, our brows furrowed, until finally my mom asked aloud, “What’s wrong with us?”

That’s not to say we don’t mourn. Oh, we mourn, we grieve, but we’re more the type to crack a joke or tell a story about the departed than clutch a box of Kleenex and let our mascara run. Well, my mother and I. Dad doesn’t wear mascara.

When I picked up and left home to move for my career, as we all call our first job after college in attempt to take ourselves more seriously, I really only cried when I said my goodbyes to my college roommates and after I walked my parents to their taxi. For like a minute, and then it was time to get real. Since I’ve been here, it’s just not something I have time or privacy for. Read More »