The Crying Game

(photo by Chris Bolin)
(photo by Chris Bolin)

Confession: I cry very easily. I am a cliché. I cry during greeting card commercials, the news and on very bad days, possibly Big Brother. (I love Audrey but she has really pooched her game.) Acts of cruelty and kindness and all stops in between bring the waterworks. I have always been a little embarrassed about spurting tears so easily.

Since Mike died, I have cried in the ice cream aisle at Safeway, at a neighbourhood Renaissance fair as Vikings “battled” each other and while waiting for my Flat White at Starbucks. I briefly cried in our insurance agent’s office and then later again that same day as I described it to my girlfriend. So, for clarity, I cried while telling a story about crying.

But here’s the strange thing: I am off my game—my crying game.

Sure I have wept in fits and starts since Mike died but I certainly haven’t cried me a river. Maybe a tributary, or possibly a tiny stream but certainly no river. There has been no wailing either.

I often find myself comforting our friends as they release their tears on my shoulder but I don’t join in. Truth be told, seeing our friends cry makes me feel better. It means Mike was loved, and in turn, Will and I are loved.

My former self, the unabashed weeper of all things big and small, is gone. I’m not sure if she will ever return. Truthfully, I am a little perplexed and troubled by my transformation. Mike’s death, the biggest trauma of my life so far, should shatter me. It hasn’t. Not yet, anyway.

So until my tears really flow, I will just go with the flow and try not to fret about my dry eyes.

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3 thoughts on “The Crying Game

  1. Oh, those “shoulds.” Screw ’em. I find it’s not what we expect, really. It just is what it is (talk about clichés, but …). Whatever you do and however, it is right.

  2. Robin, We’ve never met, but I knew Mike from our shared journalism background and from walking our dogs along the same path/creek in Regina years ago. I so enjoyed Mike’s writing and sharing in this blog, and I’m so thrilled you are continuing on with it in your own voice. Mike was a special person and clearly so are you. I’m so glad you found each other in this crazy world and created a beautiful life and child. Please know that you and your son are loved by people who you’ve never met and who are sharing your journey just a little bit through your writing. Thank you for that gift.

    Take care, Jilly

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  3. I know what you mean about seeing friends cry. It makes me feel better too….to know I am not the only one that loves my husband. To know that others suffer with us. Maybe that makes me horrible – I shouldn’t want people to suffer. But its nice not to be the only person who feels the pain.

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