We were told by our cable supplier that our modem will no longer be functioning after the new year, so we needed to upgrade. My husband planned for the service installer to come by. I listened as he told me what to expect.  It was all for the better except when he said, “you will lose your recordings.”

 I stared at him blankly. I thought of all the Hallmark movies taped that I was enjoying.  They would be gone. I thought of all Jon’s Sunday morning shows.  They would be gone. And then I remembered Zane’s recordings that I kept.  Seeing them always gave me a sense of peace, pretending some how he would one day watch them. They would be gone too.  And I gasped.

“What?”, I uttered, choking back the tears. He repeated, “there will be no more recordings. You will have to record again.” But Zane was not here to record.  How could I do this? The poor young man had no idea why I was upset about my recordings about to be erased and yet there was nothing he or I could do.  The upgrade was mandatory.  I took a deep breath and said, “Ok”.

Jon arrived at this time, and I made an excuse I had an errand to run and left him to oversee the upgrade. As I got into my car I was thinking, “upgrade, this is far from an upgrade for me”. It was a step back into my grief having one less thing of Zane’s. I drove to the park and took a walk along the path that I had walked Tango so many times before and I began to sob.

I wasn’t prepared for this reaction. Sometimes grief makes no sense at all. Why did I have such a response to this change, this necessary technological progress? Perhaps it is the start of the holiday season where we get weepier. Or maybe it is all the work of the busy needy season, and I am overtired. Or maybe, it’s just more loss of things I love and more unwanted change arriving for me to face.

As I pondered why I was so upset, I let myself continue to weep.  As I walked, the sun in my face, dried my tears.  The silence of the park let my mind relax. There could be one or a combination of reasons why we are triggered and reduced to tears.  All things that are about our loved ones are important.  We are the protector of each reminder they were alive, and we do not want any of it to be deleted.  The recordings, which would literally be erased, were a symbolic reminder that life is and will never be as I had wished. This simple conclusion came to me by giving myself permission to have a good cry. I returned to the car, fixed my make-up, and gently went on with my plans for the day.

We know that emotional tears release oxytocin and endogenous opioids, otherwise called endorphins.  I believe that tears are the souls’ way of exposing the shadows of our pain. At the end of a long cry, we are left with our true sadness and with a quiet sensation of courage. It’s surprising how many tears are within us that spill over when needed to restore our sprit so that we can carry on.  Strength is found in the salt of our tears.