If you want to kiss someone, go to a train station.
That's what my mother used to advise, back in the 1950s. Actually, she said, "...go to Grand Central Station." We lived in New York. The rationale, of course, was that at a train station everyone is kissing goodbye, so a romantic couple could just blend in.
I thought of this two days ago, on my way to a memorial service. I started getting tearful talking about Jill, and realized that I'd probably gone too long without one of my "good cries." I hoped I wouldn't start spilling over at awkward times, and then I thought, what better place to get weepy than at a memorial service? Indeed.
I silently wept through the service, using up tissue after tissue. Only some of the tears were directly for my daughter, but all were indirectly for her, emanating from from my grieving core that reacts instantlyÂand in some cases, overreactsÂto moving situations anywhere. It was a beautiful service, hugely attended...and the people seated around me must have thought the deceased and I were extremely close. That was hardly the case. :-)