It's a fairly embarrassing thing to sometimes get drunk and cry. But I guess it shows that deep down somewhere all that grief hasn't yet gone away. I just don't let myself indulge in it at all, if I can help it. But today the tone of your voice, caring, concerned, felt like one more of those things that tips the scale toward life being a fantastically wonderful place and well worth living. Like the time when, speaking candidly about the abject misery that I once felt, my friend, sitting next to me, shot out an arm and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and said "that's awful." Times like these I feel as though I can break off a piece of my enormous grief and give it to a friend to hold. And I walk away feeling enveloped in warmth knowing I don't have to carry it alone.