"There once was an old and somewhat wise woman whom everyone called Grandy.  She just suffered a big loss in her life.  Pops, her husband, suffered the same loss, but in his own way.  This is the story of how Grandy faced her loss by setting out to make tear soup. . . Because of her great loss Grandy knew this time her recipe for tear soup would call for a big pot.  With a big pot she would have plenty of room for all the memories, all the misgivings, all the feelings and all of he tears she needed to stew in the pot over time.  She put her apron on because she knew it would get messy.  It seems that grief is never clean.  People feel misunderstood, feelings get hurt and wrong assumptions are made all over the place.  to make matters worse, grief always takes longer to cook than anyone wants it to.  And then. . . Grandy started to cry.  At first she sobbed.  Sometimes she wept quietly.  And sometimes when she was in a safe place were no one could hear her. . . she even wailed.  Grandy knew she had to make much of this part of the soup alone.  She learned from past experiences that most people don't like being around tears.  her friends would worry if they knew just how many tears Grandy's recipe called for this time.  So, the old and somewhat wise woman reflected on her own special recipe as she looked down into the large overflowing pot of memories.  It was a task she would repeat many times during the next few months. . . Grandy's arms ached and she felt stone cold and empty.  There were not words that could describe the pain she was feeling.  What's more, when she looked out the window it surprised her to see how the rest of the world was going on as usual while her world had stopped.  . . people stopped by to see how Grandy was doing.  They filled the air with words, but none of their words took the smell of tear soup away.  Grandy was gracious because she knew how helpless her friends felt.  they wanted to fix her, but they couldn't.  All Grandy really needed from them at that moment was knowing look and a warm hug. . . Grandy found that most people can tolerate only a cup of someone else's tear soup.  The giant bowl, where Grandy could repeatedly share her sadness in great detail, was left for a few willing friends.  "I'm here," Midge cried.  "I got here as fast as I could and I'll be here whenever you need me.  what a tragedy.  I'm so sorry you're having to make such a big pot of soup."  Oh what a relief.  Grandy knew she didn't have to be careful what she said around Midge.  Midge wouldn't try to talk her out of anything she was feeling.  And Grandy could even laugh and not worry that Midge would assume Grandy was over her grief.  "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," said Midge.  "No problem," replied Grandy.  "I've had plenty of help.  But most of these friends will be history pretty soon.  They'll be over my tragedy long before I am.  But I know you'll still be around."  . . . On some afternoons people would ask questions like, "Is it soup yet?" Or, "How long is it going to take?  You have been at this for over a month now.  It's time to get out of the kitchen."  Grandy fumed at the caller's advice.  Grandy looked forward to getting the mail each day.  She dreaded the day when no more sympathy cards would come.  When she was alone and needed to think she found it helpful to keep notes on her soup making.  Thank goodness Grandy and Pops have been married along time.  They already knew each other's tear soup would be different.  Secretly Grandy wished Pops would put more flavoring in his soup, but he doesn't want to.  And he's perfectly content to dine alone and ship his own soup.  Making tear soup is hard work.  Sometimes it was all she could think about.  even the things Grandy used to love to do, she didn't have the energy for, nor did she care about anymore.  Grandy knew there were times when she needed to take a break from her soup making.  Even though it was hard to do, she forced herself to get away.  Grandy heard that a neighbor was having to take her turn in the kitchen.  Some people thought that the neighbor was eating too much tear soup.  So Grandy, being an old and somewhat wise woman, called and invited her to a special soup gathering where it's not bad manners to cry in your soup or have second helpings.  Soon the thoughtful cooks sat at Grandy's table and discussed the process of making tear soup.  There are some parts that require help from friends and some parts you just have to do alone.  They shared stories about soup making they wouldn't dare tell anyone else for fear of being judged a bad cook. . . These people had become Grandy's "new best friends." . . . Tear soup is a way for you to sort through all the different types of feelings and memories you have when you lose someone or something special.  Some days when you're making tear soup it's even hard to breathe.  some days you feel like running away.  You just hope a better day comes along soon.  And then comes one of the hardest parts of making tear soup, It's when you decide it may be okay to eat something instead of soup all the time. . . I don't think you actually ever finish.  The hard work of making this batch of soup is almost done though.  I'll put the rest in the freezer and will pull it out from time to time to have a little taste.  I've learned that grief, like a pot of soup, changes the longer it simmers and the more things you put into it.  I've learned that sometimes people say unkind things, but they really don't mean to hurt you.  And most importantly, I've learned that there is something down deep within all of us ready to help us survive the things we think we can't survive."