Man to Man: When Is It Ok to Cry?
I was raised by a Lieutenant of the United States Marine Corps (ooh rah); I have seen my father cry twice and have only heard of two other instances. I personally witnessed him cry when that cursed Joe Montana hit Dwight Clark in the back left (depending on your vantage point) of the end zone and the Dallas Cowboys did not go to the Superbowl. That seems so silly when I compare it to after my mother’s memorial service. He said, “When the love of your life leaves this planet, you are not far behind.” I immediately panicked because that’s exactly what happened with my great-grandparents. My father turned out to be correct. His murder seven years and sixteen days after her suicide ended their love affair like a Greek tragedy of a doomed Shakespearean love story.
The only two other known instances involved me, When I was three I contracted Rubella (aka the German Measles) which I would attribute to living in Germany until I was approximately ten years of age. Apparently, my fever was so high I was not expected to make it. My father called his father and the only vivid memories I have from that entire experience were my grandfather praying over my in a language I had never heard (I know it now to be Persian) and my father crying. I recall thinking that something must really be wrong for him to cry the way he was. My grandfather was calm, so I was thoroughly confused. Later in life, pneumonia and a fever would bring tears to my father again. I have come dangerously close to a fever ending my life three (3) times.
This is the time of year when you miss the people that are no longer living in the lifetime, in this timeline, existing at the same time as you, whatever your beliefs are the one thing is true: The physical body that encompassed the person you loved, no longer does. So on the 18th of this month I went through unscathed and thought it would be smooth sailing. Wednesday, I got news that would make it not so. I believe that these painful experiences are just that. They are the purpose of being here, the experience itself. Whether or not your life is a success is solely up to you. When I received the news, I was told to let it out, and I did not.
I have had this pain, this ache in my chest ever since. When they say, “You need to come home kid,” in the family that only means one thing. I’m home and yet I cannot bring myself to cry or even say goodbye. It’s one thing for everyone responsible for your birth is gone and quite another when the entire support system that helped shape you, also are gone. I know myself better than anyone else. I know I need to cry, but I won’t or maybe can’t. I have raised my son not to cry over every little thing, but not like the cavemen days of my father and especially my grandfather. You know, the “Mad Men” era? We’re far too evolved for that nonsense, so why cannot I not turn on the faucet?
Upon some self reflection, it may be fear. Fear that if I begin, it will never end. That if somehow I give in the loss is real. I have experienced so much loss but my belief system has also changed. It’s selfish to want someone to stay here with you when they are ready, have accepted their lot, and made their peace. I am not sure how to get through this. It came from left field, unexpected and I’m angry. I may have to rush through the 5 steps because I am unsure of the amount of time I have. Denial, anger, and bargaining have passed and I am in a state of depression, but I guess that’s where I am stuck. I had very little to offer the universe in the bargaining department, so an angered filled depression is where I am. Perhaps, if I can get to acceptance I can let go and this cavernous hole that is in my chest can be filled with the good things again.
If you thought I was going to tell you when it was okay to cry and I haven’t, it’s because I don’t know. I guess you cry when you are ready. I do not know when I will be ready. I am still too grief stricken to go to acceptance. I just hope that the conveyance of love and appreciation can still be heard and felt, As for me, I don’t want my son to see me go to pieces. At the same time, I don’t want him to be apathetic either. Parenting isn’t an exact science, if it were, none of us would be neurotic as we are. I keep hearing Olivia Pope calling Cyrus a “Bitch Baby,” and well that verbiage cannot be used to describe me. I refuse to.
When I was about 10 years of age, I remember being with my Godparents and hearing this song, with lyrics that state, “I’ve heard it’s said that a man is not supposed to cry…” It never gave a reason why…
It’s no thing when it comes to bringing you some artistic, creative, and incredible scoops because Pardon My Audacity always brings the dopest news to you!Like what you read here: Subscribe to the blog! Follow us on Twitter: @PardnMyAudacity. Like our Facebook page. Follow us on IG: @PardonMyAudacity.
TK’s Bio: Terrence Kyrell Hodge I was born 9/13/79, in what was then W. Berlin Germany, to Qualise and Lieutenant Tyrone Hodge of the United States Marine Corps. He lived inLondon England and graduated from the University of Michigan Ann Arbor in 2000 with BA in English and Political Science. Terrence writes about any and everything. Terrence is planning a series of novels that are works of “faction” part factual (nonfiction) and partly fictional. He plans to bring a dual vision of American and European observation and opinions to PMA. He will bring blunt honesty with a sense of comedy. He says “I will write wherever I’m needed as I am NOT a one trick pony.