I Can Cry

I can miss her.

When I see the clothes she got them, I can softly cry, knowing she'll never see them in them.

When I capture moments, and can't share them with her...I can cry.

When I want to tell her some new thing they're learning or doing, but can't...I can cry.

I can cry at the loss:  of a friend, cheerleader, supporter, nana, mother. 

I can cry, knowing they'll never experience growing up with their nana excitedly cheering for them in life.

I can cry, knowing they'll never again hear her enthusiastic voice on the other end of the call.

I can cry, wishing we'd had more time.

I can cry.