I just got home from the funeral. Tears still stung in my eyes threatening to stream down my face and break the facade I had been putting on for my little sisters. It’s okay to cry I said time and time again. My vision blurred, Mom nonchalantly says, “Check the mail”. I stumble over my own two feet and pull the handle down with what little strength I had left; I open my eyes and reach for the single postcard sitting there all alone. I scan down to see who it’s from. I blink rapidly to keep the tears from dancing a familiar dance down my cheeks. I crumble down and stare blankly at the postcard when I finally begin reading I remember its okay to cry. It’s okay to cry.