“Want to hear a weird story?”

If you’ve read my blog you know since my husbands passing I like to cry at grocery store check outs. When the cashier states normal conversations like, “Rotisserie Chicken is the best..” I like to reply by bursting into tears. It makes things awkward and I leave the cashier wondering if I’m ok.

It’s become a thing now that I have to mentally prep myself before going in.- As if going in the grocery store isn’t already a thing to mentally prep for. Anyways, after going down the aisles of either resisting to pick up things my deceased husband would’ve enjoyed. Suppressing the thoughts of dinner I would’ve made for him and putting things back I had subconsciously put in the cart for him back on the shelf; I stroll up to the conveyer belt.

I place my groceries with a big exhale and give one last mental conversation.

“I will not cry here..today.” I prepped myself.

She scans my groceries. I’m doing great! I’m focused.

Hyping myself up..'“ I’m not f*ckin losing it, yes!”. Then…

the cashier starts to cough*.

She says to me, “want to hear a weird story?”

me: “Sure!” (In my head saying: please don’t say you have covid) as she scans.

cashier: My sister died yesterday..

(Mental thoughts: Did I hear her right?… -that’s horrible; please, don’t say it was covid.)

me: “Excuse me?.. I didn’t hear you.”

cashier: “Ya, my sister died yesterday. She was eating a piece of chocolate, choked on it and died.”

-OK! Of course, my first thought is she had to be joking. What the !? I scan her facial cues and I see it..

Someone trying to hold it together in a check out line.

A heart full of sadness.

Grief.

The feeling I know a version of. The sense of the world spiraling around as you process. Living while trying to make sense of life. The feeling that just wants to make you shout and let everyone know.. you’re hurting and just want everything to stop.

So, I did what I said I wouldn’t…

I cried.

and then she cried.

I hugged the cashier and told her it’s ok to cry at the check out line. We exchanged a few moments about grief and I left.

I’m allowed to cry. I won’t deny my pain.

Beauty can come from suffering.

I still haven’t made it through a check out line without crying! D*mnit …

Funny how that worked out.. Ya it was a weird story but I’m grateful she felt she could share it with me. I’m glad I was the person she could cry with at the check out line.

:)