You are not alone

Cry

Real men cry.  Real men feel.  A good cry is cleansing for the heart, mind and soul.  When Shirley’s mother, Marge, and I went home after taking Alison to school, we held on to each other for dear life and wept, inconsolably.  We each needed to let out the pent-up feelings of anger, helplessness and fear.  She feared the loss of a child, her eldest, and her only daughter.  I feared the loss of my bride, my partner, my lover, the mother of my one and only child, Alison, who was then just 3 years old.  I feared becoming a single parent.  How could I, a man, possibly raise a girl, bring her through the formative years and adolescence into adulthood?  Was I going to have to date again to find a mother for my daughter, oh, what a wretched, frightening thought.

During the first days after surgery, then over the weeks and on into months, I often found myself alone in the car, driving home, heading to work, whatever. I would be overcome by fear, which was really a lack of faith.  Fear and faith cannot co-exist.  When emotions hit full blast, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably, tears running down my face, sobs racking my body.

But are there not positive images of men facing loss and pain?  There is the classic Frenchman with tears streaming down his face when Nazis occupied Paris.  Do not men in battle cry when a comrade falls? Crying releases your pent up emotions: anger, fear, sadness, pain, and denial.  Crying is a safety valve, a mini volcano releasing the pressures from deep with-in your soul and being.  Cry.  You feel.  You are hum-an and graced. 

Hug a friend and cry on his or her shoulder. That hug lends understanding, strength and comfort.