I have only worn eye makeup a couple times in the last several months.  Tears stream so frequently down my face that it seems fruitless to try and wear mascara or eyeshadow.

However, when I woke this morning, for some reason, I didn’t have my usual cry in the shower, and as I thought about the events of my morning, afternoon, and evening, I imagined that I might be able to make it through the day without crying.  So, though it seemed almost foreign to me, I brushed shadow on my lids, coated my lashes with mascara, and started my day.

What I failed to recognize was how quickly my emotions can turn during this season, and how unexpected are the triggers for my tears.

Early in the morning I read something that made my eyes well up, but my makeup managed to remain unaffected.  Then my friend Rachel came over and we took Jessie to the mall to have her picture taken with Santa.  Later, I met my friend Donna for lunch, and then I headed home to put Jessie down for her nap.  I was half way through the day and my makeup had endured my emotions.  It felt like a milestone.

Yet, after I put Jessie down for her nap, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was looking at the pictures I had just taken of Jessie with Santa and she reminded me so much of Jud.  It also brought to memory our visit to Santa last year-the two of them were sitting on his lap.  This year, Jessie was all alone.

I continued to cry intermittently throughout the afternoon.

As the evening rolled around, I assumed I’d gotten most of my tears out for the day, and since I was heading to a small Christmas party, I decided to reapply my makeup, hopeful that the “raccoon” would not reappear.

How naïve I am! 

In the car, on the way to the party, it happened again.  This time it was a song that triggered my weeping.  Once the song ended, I was able to pull it together before arriving at my destination; I was also pleased to realize my makeup was still salvageable.  I blotted my face, and went in to the party.

At the party, I mingled with people, maintained my composure, and simply had tears pool in the corner of my eyes a couple times.  What I had not realized was that there was going to be a time of open sharing…I made it through most of it without crying until my friend Tracy began to talk about Jud.  I lost it.  The tears came pouring down.  My raccoon face re-merged.   Fortunately, I felt loved, raccoon face and all.

Today was a glaring reminder that grief hits at the most inopportune times.  It is no respecter of location, convenience, group dynamics, time, and especially eyeshadow or mascara.

I expect that tomorrow I will tackle the day make-up free again.