On Tears

Let me start by saying, the very pit of my stomach hates crying. I can't exactly pin point when this started for me, but for most of my life I have had this adverse reaction. My wife has lamented, "You don't cry." I completely do not understand this sentiment. The most common crying I hear is that of Sienna, when she is getting her hair brushed. She has, with certainty, told me I am a good hugger, not a good brusher. So, while Shelly brushes, I hug. I am working to make the crying stop. The crying of my wife and kids makes me sad, so I always want it to stop. Additionally, I don't want to bring any more sadness to them, so I don't cry.

I sit on the couch surrounded by my friends and family, but we are all lost in the sights and sounds before us. We have gathered to watch a movie and we have gotten to the point when you can't look away. Everything looks cripplingly bad, you know it can't end this way, but you don't see anyway out. Then, the girl you thought was dead blinks, or the reinforcements arrive or the main character suddenly uses a skill we had forgotten about from the first act. It jumps off the screen and hits me in the throat, it pokes me in the eyes and every part of me wants to give into the emotion. I even hear others starting to cry in the room. I swallow hard, rub my eyes and look around to make sure no body is looking at me. I'm not going to be caught with tears in this moment.

I don't remember how the news was given, or even what happened the rest of the day, but she was gone. In shaky voice, behind a veil of tears, my Mom had told us, my brother and I, that my grandmother had died. My impulse was to immediately run, try to escape the truth. I fled to my room, buried my face in my pillow and cried a loud, open mouthed, sobbing cry. I surrendered all control into the emotion of the moments. I called her. I never wanted to see someone so bad in my life and knowing I would never see her again was almost too much to bear. I couldn't even find comfort in the hope of heaven, I wanted her then. I wailed and color faded away.

I had been so blessed, but those blessing had been rattled. Shelly and I had twins and a house, but we were far from our family in Kalamazoo and I had lost my job. We made our way for a while, but I needed more than the spotty work I was getting. We had made meals of eggs and peanut butter sandwiches. Eaten poorer than I ever did in college. We could do that, what we couldn't do was pay the bills and keep up the house at the same time we staggered through. So, Shelly worked on the other side of the state, taking the kids with her. This meant they could be watched and we had a little more income and the family there would feed the three of them. It wasn't the first time she left, but I remember a particularly difficult one. I think I was watching Remember the Titans when it was time for them to go. I kissed them and waved as they backed out of the driveway and then drove up Westnedge Hill to the expressway. So, in that moment, feeling completely alone and failing, I cried. I wanted to go with them, to have my job back, to be the rescuer and I couldn't. The sun poured in the windows and the movie marched on, but I was too broken to enjoy them.

The kids were with their grandparents and Shelly and I had, had a fantastic weekend. We were not at Disney, not even in Florida, as you might have suspected. In fact, we hadn't even left the state. We were with our couples Sunday School class at a couples conference. This time was about us and about our relationship. We had a beautiful room, which had a little treat basket prepared by Myra Kay, the pastor Jeff's wife. Many of the couples were our friends and heightened our joy. We had been give homework to write vows, privately, for our spouse. I took this seriously. I tried to pick my word so she could read the depth of my emotion, which I so rarely show. I could imagine getting to the large room and exchanging these things and me reading hers, mustering my strength and her reading mine and crying. This is not what happened. We were asked to read what we had written to our spouses. This completely broke me. Not with the sad or pained outburst, which is so often associated with crying, but the dripping hot, shaking crying which come with being overwhelmed with joy. I read through cracked voice and blurry vision. No amount of deep breathing or eye rubbing could cover this. So, I cried and hugged and knew that she knew that I loved her.