The Crying Game!

The Scream, Edvard Munch

I’ve never been a crier. Didn’t believe in it. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, I have cried approximately three times in my life prior to Saturday.  The first time that I cried was the day I was born and the only reason for that was the doctor slapped me and caught me off guard.  The second time I cried was at my father’s funeral service, the second one in Washington, DC.  You have to give up a few tears for daddy!  Finally, I shed a tear when Barack Obama accepted the Democratic nomination in Grant Park back in 2008.  Yes sir, real men don’t cry!

That was until I got the news that my nephew had been shot.  Then I cried like a baby.  I cried because he was hurt. I cried because I couldn’t protect him. I cried because he was alive and I had no idea of the severity of his injuries.  I cried because his future was so bright and full of promise.  I cried because I was mad.  I cried when I found out he was going to make a full recovery.  I cried for two families that will never be the same.  I cried for the man who attacked my nephew.  I cried because violence makes me sick!

I’ve cried so much lately and I’m getting pretty good at it.  Brother, I’m in big trouble if I see a “save the puppies” or “feed the children” commercial.  But the upside is that I felt better after crying.  It is a natural and free stress reliever.  I can’t imagined how I would have internalized my grief had I not found an outlet for it.  And I am not sure that I even want to know the answer.  All I know now is that I will not try to stifle myself the next time my eyes want to turn on the faucets.  But at the same time, I hope that I will never again have to experience something like this.

Oh, real men do cry!  They just don’t let you see it!