Grieving - a wierd adventure

Tears are coming out of nowhere. A sadness permeates my entire body.  My eyes hurt.  Each limb feels heavy. The filter on my emotions has a hole in it.


Having the last parent die is different than the first parent dying. Each death is a different experience.  True. Thinking that you will grieve the same -- big mistake.


Now in my family I have a reputation.  You know the kind of reputation that follows you to your grave.  I am known as the family crier.  According to my family all the tears came to me. "Well you know you DO cry alot." "You cry at everything, Renee." "You've always cried alot, this is no different."


But it is different. Different from my perspective. My Mom died. The person I've known longer than any other is gone. Not available anymore.  


She and I had an interesting relationship.  The roles reversed.  I took care of her as if she were my child.  Granted a grown child with a mind of her own who resented being treated as if she had no freedom of choice.  She had freedom and chose not to exercise it. She relinquished it to me.  Then she relinquished it to God.  Now, she's truly free.


So I cry.  I gasp for breathe I cry so hard. The snot comes dripping out of my nose.  Between the tears and the snot, I soak tissues.  I cry for her.  I cry for all the things that she might do differently. For all the missed opportunities for her, for me, for others.


I cry for all that she accomplished.  I cry for her children, grandchildren, and friends.


Do people think has because I cry more than they do that the tears are fake?  Or that they don't mean anything?  Or that I am not hurting?  Do I need to stop expressing myself naturally in order for others to see that there is pain, upset, compassion?


One time my Mom said to me, "Well Renee, it doesn't seem like you are upset because you aren't crying."  I thought about that for a moment.  Realized that if I did not cry she did not take what I was saying as real.  I then verbalized the exact same statement but with gulps and tears.  "Bitch!", she spat.  


I laughed and said "Mom, it seems like if I don't cry you don't think I mean it."  


So I cry so people will know that I mean it.