"Today was real tough. I got into bed
I snuggled with my teddy bear, and then laid down my head
And then I cried, cried, cried, cried.
Cried, cried, cried."

The lyrics are from a song by Ruth Pelham. I heard it sung by Holly Near many years ago.

This was a day for tears. You'd think I'd cry a lot, but I haven't. Mostly, in the almost three months since Stu had a stroke, I have cried at good stuff: I have cried at good news, when there's been improvement, or a big deal Thing. Or at kindness, and whoo boy, there's been a lot of kindness.

I have tried to make a joke about crying saying that I would cry but I hate getting a headache. The truth is, I don't know what's keeping me going, why I haven't fallen apart. Because I can't, because, I've been told, I don't have time. All true, but still.

Today was the continuation of a bad week - with some small improvements. But shit. When Stu's brother Harvey and sister-in-law Robin initially made their plans to visit, Stu was going to be in the rehab facility. Instead, he's back at Harborview and has been having a very tough time. He had a seizure on Monday and another yesterday. They are trying to determine causes, and have ruled out much. He is, I believe, going to get through this. But when someone was working today to try and get him to wake up, and could not get a response, I had to leave the room. And I sat in the hallway, unable to move the damn wheelchair while I cried. Cried cried cried. Three different staff people stopped to ask if I was okay. They talked to me, gave me support, comfort and tissues. I got myself sort of okay, and headed back to the room. The woman who'd been working with Stu came and apologized to me for upsetting me. I mean come on, really. Amazing, huh? But as Stu's always been oriented, this was really hard to witness, and I had to go somewhere and cry it out. Crap.

When we left him this evening he was, at least, peaceful, and a bit more aware. I see progress, although things are still very tough.

I got a cab home and found a couple of packages waiting. One, rather puzzled me as it seemed to be - yes, addressed to me - but from...Smuckers? Yes, it was. A lovely thoughtful gracious and yes, sweet gift, from my long-time friends Diane and Michael. Four jars of terrific sounding jam in a wooden box. Dammit. Guess who's crying again.

Then I opened the package from Dave. My friend since what did we figure, 1977, was it? One of my first friends in fandom at part of the triumvirate of Dave, Tom and Debbie, the bay area's best booksellers. And Scrabble players, pizza eaters, sympathetic listeners and dance fans. Dave sent a wonderful DVD, one he knew would appeal to me, one I did not know existed, about the Joffrey Ballet. I'm going to enjoy that DVD for a long time to come, both because the Joffrey provided so many hours of wonderful dance in my life, but also because a friend sent a gift on a very bad day.

And then I cried, cried, cried, cried.