I have claimed, repeatedly, that I don’t cry. But I feel the need to admit that isn’t entirely true.I don’t cry a lot, that part is true. But there are times when I am overwhelmed with emotion, which manifests itself in the form of tears. I don’t like to cry, though. For me, it’s not the issue of showing emotion. It’s about how it makes me feel physically. The eyes get all red and puffed up, the sinuses become a mess, and often a headache accompanies those problems. That part is never fun.
So what would cause a stone heart like mine to break? There are a few things…
My Girl and a few other movies. My Girl does it every single time. It’s that part near the end where the girl asks, “Where are his glasses? He can’t see without his glasses!” And the other day I watched La Bamba for the first time in a long time. I know the story, I knew the plane crash was coming. But how can you not cry? Come on, it’s the day the music died.
Sometimes I’ll be driving along minding my own business and I’ll hear a song that causes me to tear up. I never had a “Cats in the Cradle” kind of relationship with Dad. I had a great relationship with him. But whenever I hear that song, I can’t help but think about the fact that I don’t get to call him up just to see how he’s doing anymore. I know, I should hear that song and be grateful for the good relationship that we did have. But sometimes it gets to me.
Most of the time when I think about Dad I sit back and laugh. Because I’ll catch myself doing little things that remind me of him. I’ll do little things that he used to do. I’ll think about the things he would say or do to make me laugh and I’ll crack a smile or even burst into unexpected laughter. Rare is the occasion now that thinking of him causes me to cry. It happens sometimes, but it’s still rare. But don’t translate that into “I don’t miss him anymore.” I miss him every day.
I don’t cry over books that I’m reading very often. But I did mention in an earlier post that I cried while reading Nicholas Sparks’ memoir. And it really wasn’t just the eyes welling up with a few tears. I was sobbing before I got to the end of that book.
But most of the above are just things that stir up emotion. Aside from those rare cries over my father, these things that cause me to cry are just external forces that really have no bearing on my life. So maybe that tells me that I should be more open to opening up about my feelings. Maybe then I’d be able to explore what’s really wrong with me. In the meantime, at least I know I’m capable of having the emotions.