I follow a great blog by Jodi Lobozzo Aman called Heal Now And Forever Be In Peace. Today, she put up a great post about crying. In it she asks, “what makes you cry?”
I laughed at the thought. Irony. Even more amusing; I just recently had a conversation with my sister in which I told her I needed to have a good cry. A very good cry. That was brought about by a trip to the emergency room with my dad. On the day we were supposed to be celebrating his birthday, we instead found ourselves in the ER, after my dad fell, head-first, into the shower. Fifteen stitches later a nice looking young man from admissions came in to ask my dad a few questions, like, “Is ‘Janet’ still your emergency contact?” Well, ‘Janet’ is my mother. And she died almost seven months ago. His question caught me quite off guard. I burst into tears. Why was my mother his emergency contact anyway? She had been in the nursing home more than two years. She couldn’t have been anyone’s emergency contact.
So, what makes me cry?
Work. Or, to be more precise, people, at my work.
Those damn ASPCA commercials.
Any story on the news about soldiers coming home from deployment, or leaving for one.
Parades make me cry. Marching bands, specifically.
The singing or playing of the Star Spangled Banner.
Songs on the radio.
Songs in movies.
Greeting Cards. Oh, I will sob like a baby in the greeting card aisle!
The playing of pomp and circumstance and/or the wedding march.
Airports. All of the hello’ing and goodbye’ing… It’s a tear-jerker!
My kids. Sometimes they are tears of joy. Sometimes sadness.
Memories. The good ones, and the bad ones, make me cry.
I could go on and on. In fact, I’m sure once I hit the publish button I’ll think of a dozen other things I wish I would’ve added to the list. Suffice it to say, I’m a crier. I’m about as tender-hearted as they come. Which would come as a shock to many who know me. Yes, underneath this bitchy exterior, beats a heart, first of all, and a mushy one at that.
I haven’t had a good cry in a while. I mean, a really good cry. I’m long overdue. I try not to cry in front of my daughter, because I don’t want to cause her any undue worry. But I need a good cry. It sucks, sometimes, having to be the strong one, and not having anyone to be strong for you. I think that’s one of the reasons why I hold back. If I fall apart, even for just a while, who will be here, to hold things together? I want to cry. I want to cry over the loss of my mother. I want to cry about a lot of shitty things that have happened in the last six months or so. One of these days I’ll reach the point of no return and I’ll cry if I want to… and maybe even if I don’t.
– J. Ela