I once thought of clubs as an integral part of childhood…and occasionally the bane of my existence. I see now that they never go away. Sometimes they are overt, but often clubs for adults (no, not THAT kind) are unspoken. Instead of a secret handshake, it may be a shared look. Grief. Pain. Experience. There is the infertility club, the child-loss club, the cancer club – just to name a few. There are survivor clubs and it-kicked-my-ass clubs. But here’s the thing. These little semi-secret, exclusive groups do the same thing they always did: they provide a safe place for members, and they deter the uninitiated. The one is good…the second? It still hurts to be on the outside. The older I get, the more I realize that kids and adults aren’t different in kind, just in experience. Sometimes things hurt, and we can’t fix it. Sometimes we have to let our loved ones go to where they need to be…even if it isn’t to us. I am so not going to do that well when the loved ones in question are my kids….