This past weekend I went to my 40th High School Reunion. Anyone from HVRHS who is reading this would be able to tell u that current Tammie and 1980’s Tammie are 2 different people.

In High School I was shy, didn’t say much, and to say that I wasn’t in the “in crowd “ would be a vast under statement. But people change when you’re 40 yrs out of High School. The petty clique bull shit has for the most part has vanished.

We all talk about our kids, and grandkids. What they are doing, where they live, etc. Granted my class only had 121 students in it, and there was less than 25 people at the reunion. Phone numbers were exchanged, pictures were taken, drinks were bought, and all in all everyone had a good time.

Of course everyone told me they were so sorry about Connor, and asked how I was. The truth is that Saturday was a good night, I laughed and talked and hugged. But that doesn’t mean that there weren’t tears shed on the way home. Because there absolutely was. They started as just little tears, but by the time they were over, it was a full on ugly cry.

The truth is no matter how much time has passed, talking about him makes me cry. But at the same time the happy memories make me smile. So with that in mind I cherish those happy moments and try not to dwell on the sad ones.

It doesn’t always work, and sometimes the tears just roll down my cheeks, and stopping is futile.

There is no map for navigating grief, it isn’t a linear progression. It is all tied up like a frustrating ball of yarn. Good days, bad days and days that having to get out of bed is just too hard. I take my prescribed anti depressants and anti anxiety meds. Sometimes it works, and then sometimes I need time with my besties.

When Connor first died I wud go out in the woods behind the house and just scream into the void, I also threw plates there too. So in the next century when someone excavates my woods. They are going to wonder why there are busted plates that are not a complete set of anything.

Almost 8 years later, I don’t throw plates, but I still have ugly cry days. They aren’t as frequent as they used to be. But I don’t ever expect that I will return to the happy go lucky mom I was 8 years ago. Like the High School Tammie, that happy go lucky mom doesn’t exist anymore.

But the new Tammie has learned that being happy is ok, I don’t need to be unhappy everyday. Connor would be PISSED at me if he knew that I was mourning and miserable all day.