“Then Aslan stopped, and the children looked into the stream. And there, on the golden gravel of the bed of the stream, lay King Caspian, dead, with the water flowing over him like liquid glass. His long white beard swayed in it like water-weed. And all three stood and wept. Even the Lion wept: great Lion-tears, each tear more precious than the Earth would be if it was a single solid diamond. And Jill noticed that Eustace looked neither like a child crying, nor like a boy crying and wanting to hide it, but like a grown-up crying. At least, that is the nearest she could get to it; but really, as she said, people don’t seem to have any particular ages on that mountain.” – The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis The Chronicles of Narnia
That is the question at the end of the quote, in A Year with Aslan Daily Reflections from the Chronicles of Narnia.
I have never been a habitual cry-er; I am an emotional cry-er.
When I speak passionately, I choke up.
When I hear very sad news, I cry.
When I am touched by a sad movie, I cry.
When I am angry, sometimes I cry.
But when I lose my mother:
I. Weep. Deep. Sorrowful. Wet. Racking. Salty. Tears.
A lot of them.
Almost every day.
I miss her so.
Bear with me, please.