I don’t remember why I was kneeling and crying. Last week was kind of a doozy for such things.
I can’t recall what exactly pushed me to the brink, and I don’t know how I got to my knees or why I didn’t get up, except that it must have seemed fitting to stay where I was, on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor, for the crying I needed to do.
I heard Tucker coming before he arrived, since he and his cast go nowhere silently. If he’s not on his scooter or in his wheelchair, he’s crawling on his hands and knees. He came alongside me, and there we were, shoulder to shoulder in our matching positions. He put his hand on my back, he leaned his head against my shoulder.
And he whispered to me, “I’d know that cry anywhere.”
He didn’t ask me what was wrong. He didn’t ask me to stop crying. He didn’t try to cheer me up. He just joined me on the floor.
That’s an empathy you can’t teach.