President of the Crying Association: A Grief Journey with Tears, Sad Songs, and NEVER Too Much Wine

Grief is a rollercoaster of emotions, but let’s be honest—crying is the star of the show. After losing my son Walker, I didn’t just join the Grief Club; I became the president of the Crying Association. And let me tell you, I am crushing it.

Crying in the car? Check. Listening to every sad song Spotify has ever suggested? Double check. I’ve got playlists for every tear-inducing mood: heartbreak, hope, and the general vibe of “Why does life suck so much right now?” If Jelly Roll's "I'm Not Ok" comes on, it’s game over.

And it’s not just in the car. Oh no. Crying is my new side hustle.

Crying at the Pharmacy

There’s nothing quite like standing in line at the pharmacy, sobbing into your oversized sweatshirt sleeves while picking up a prescription for the very medicine that’s supposed to help you stop crying. The irony is almost too much, but not quite enough to make me laugh. Instead, I cry harder, which is excellent because clearly, that’s what the strangers behind me in line needed to see today.

The pharmacist hands me the bag with that “I hope you’re okay” look, which only makes me cry more. It’s a vicious cycle, really.

Crying at the Grocery Store

Of course, I can’t cry on an empty stomach, so off to the grocery store I go. Somewhere between the bread aisle and the wine section, the tears hit again. “Am I really buying another bottle of wine?” I think to myself.

Spoiler alert: I am. Do I need it? Probably not. Is it helping? Also probably not. But grief has a way of making you think, “Sure, a glass of wine at 3 p.m. while I watch a sad movie is totally fine.”

And just when I think I’ve pulled it together, I see a baby in a stroller, and suddenly I’m a puddle on the linoleum, holding a bottle of pinot grigio like a lifeline.

Crying While Hydrating

Fun fact: Did you know crying is dehydrating? It is. So I refill my water bottle constantly, trying to hydrate my tears. I cry while I drink water, which feels like a poetic circle of life if you ask me.

Sometimes I pause mid-sob to think, “Wow, my body is 70% water, and I’m currently expelling 60% of it through my eyes.” Impressive, right? Grief is nothing if not a full-body workout.

Crying About Crying

Here’s the kicker: sometimes I cry because I’m crying. It’s like an emotional inception—a tearful spiral of, “Why am I still crying? When will this stop? Am I breaking some sort of world record for most tears cried in one week?”

Finding the Humor in the Heartache

Okay, let’s be real—grief is heavy, and losing Walker has been the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But sometimes, in the middle of all those tears, there’s a moment where I catch myself and think, “Wow, this is kind of ridiculous.”

I mean, crying at the pharmacy, the grocery store, and while hydrating? It’s a little over the top, even for me. And maybe that tiny chuckle, that moment where I can laugh at myself, is a sign that I’m still here, still human, still finding a way to cope.

Grief isn’t linear, and crying is a big part of the process. Whether it’s in the car, in public, or while clutching a water bottle like a lifeline, the tears are valid. They’re a reminder of the love I have for my son and the weight of what I’ve lost.

So, if you see me crying at the grocery store, maybe offer a kind smile—or at least point me to the wine aisle. We’re all just doing our best, one tear-soaked moment at a time.