Healing Tears

I really am supposed to be writing about something entirely different right now, but I have to process a bit about Heather again and get it out first. Hopefully then my mind will be clear and I can be a bit productive.
I've been thinking about tears lately. I never knew or at least took note of it until Heather's death how many different kinds of tears there are. And then one day a week or so ago in a quick note to Heather's mom I wrote that the tears that I shed upon receiving Peter Rabbit in the mail weren't the same as the ones I shed upon receiving the news from her pastor that she had been killed. I sat in the same place to cry...on the floor in my bedroom with my back against the hope chest at the end of our bed. And I cried all over again over her loss. But this time the tears weren't the gut wrenching sobs that you are just sure your heart now has a physical crack in it from crying tears. These tears that trickled down as I read the notes enclosed and lovingly touched the stitches she had so carefully woven were healing tears. And as I just now finished penning a thank you note to her friends who thoughtfully finished Peter off and sent him on to me, the tears that fell were just plain sad-missing-my-friend tears. Sometimes the tears are angry, like when I'm mad-sad that this is it and we can't ever get her back. Sometimes the tears are remorseful, trickling down when I think that I nearly called her the morning of the day she died but decided with the time difference it might be too early to call her. And some are happy-sad tears when I laugh over a funny memory of her with Hubby or a friend who knew her well, but can't help but cry a little with smile. Right now the tears are make-my-sinuses-hurt tears b/c I'm trying to hold them in and get through this note. I'm hoping as time passes that the tears that come will more and more be of the healing sort, esp. for those who loved her the longest and the best.