Tears

Day 1043.

As I sit here, tears falling down my cheeks, I realize that the words ‘crying’, 'weeping' - are not an accurate description for this.

The adjective lachrymose, from the Latin for tear, seems more fitting, more noble, though declining it into a verb escapes me.

Tears so large, because they are so profuse, that the concept of a tear seems so tiny when describing such giant tears, flowing so rapidly that they now join into one giant tear that never ends, nor completes into a drop.

It’s not like running a tap, more like running a bath, as the deluge of one constant stream flows from my eyes, and seemingly from my entire body.

I approach three years without Luke, and my body knows, before I do.

I’m resistant to write this, as I so want to tell myself, or you, that three years in, the sadness stops - but it doesn’t.

But grief is the flip side of love and the love never stops.

And I love Luke, so very much.