I had this funny post in mind about how, about a year and a half ago, I had some crappy crap happen, and the long term result from it was that I didn't cry. At all. Couldn't. And then last week I watched an episode of The Biggest Loser (please don't ask) and found myself blubbering like an idiot. And then Saturday happened and it feels like I haven't stopped crying since.
But then I realized that it wasn't a very funny post after all.
Last night watching the memorial, doing the ugly cry into a Dora comforter, I saw a familiar face sitting the front row. A friend from college, from within the circle of people that I associate with late nights and loud music. His mother had been shot, and survived, and he was with her the and the rest of his family. And once again, I was reminded that Tucson IS a small town.
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