Letting Go

[Satzaroo]

About ten years after my father died, my wife urged me to go with her to a grief seminar that she was required to attend as a school counselor. I emphatically told her that I had neither interest in nor need for a grief fest because, after all, I had already resolved any residual love-hate issues with my alcoholic father. My wife, however, prevailed, even though I maintained that I would be repulsed by the touchy-feely marathon that I had envisioned. Our seats were close up and in the center; and we were surrounded by women eager to lap up heaps of psycho- babble. I preferred to be in an aisle seat far back so that I could discretely leave if I found the spectacle as distasteful as I figured it would be. Oddly enough, the speaker was a soft-spoken, middle-aged man, hardly the showman that I had expected. He used no histrionics—he began by soberly reflecting on a few childhood memories of his deceased father. At first, I was unmoved. But when he described the piggyback rides his father gave him, I was reminded of the precious times that my father carried me on his shoulders from the den to my bedroom. I immediately felt flushed. Then rivulets of unwelcome tears burned my eyes. They just wouldn't stop, no matter how frantically I tried to wipe them away. Embarrassed, I looked around, hoping to see other people so visibly emotional. But I was the only one distraught enough to sob. I was trapped, and I kept crying intermittently until the speaker said it was time to take a break. Thank God! Now I could escape. I told my wife that I was too wrought up to go through another session: I would wait in the lounge and meet her there later. But I wasn't getting off that easily. She said that I should give it another try. We'd sit at the back of the auditorium near an aisle—all would be well. My wife, as usual, was right. For whatever reason, I surprisingly maintained my composure for the rest of the seminar. When we got home, I realized that I likely had plenty of unexamined grief that I needed to confront. Although I had always scorned support groups (they were for the weak minded and weak willed), I soon joined Adult Children Of Alcoholics; and now I am in Al-Anon. At the meetings, occasional crying—by male or female--is normal; it is never stigmatized. I myself have unashamedly wept when sharing painful or cherished memories. I have learned that to repress is human; to cry, divine.

[Mirror Image]

I, too, have had moments of uncontrollable crying. I remember I was standing in the bathroom and this wasn't long after the passing of my Grandmother, whom I thought the world of and was an important person in my life, and I was standing there brushing my teeth and just all of a sudden I had a flashback of a time my family was sitting with her eating dinner and she came over filled my glass completely to the rim with tea. She always did this, you had to sip the top of the glass in order to pick it up and keep it from spilling. She was always making sure I stayed full and wouldn't let up until I told her that I couldn't drink or eat anymore. I don't know what it was, I just balled my eyes out.

I think these kinds of feelings make us stronger and there's nothing to be ashamed of. Hiding your emotions can be a good thing sometimes, but there are always going to be instances were you can't control yourself. Even though I'm a man, I'm not ashamed of crying and neither should you or anyone else. It's a natural human function. My concern is for those who cannot cry.

[Szykneij]

Out of curiosity, why are you posting this here and now? According to the link below, this is someting you posted elsewhere in April, along with other postings that have made their way to the Diner. No rule against it I guess, but what is your motivation for doing so?

http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:oZKrLdkBZmQJ:share-ws4-md.aarp.org/community/portfolio/journals/index.jsp%3Fmembername%3Dschlomo%26pageNum%3D3+%22He+used+no+histrionics%E2%80%94he+began+by+soberly+reflecting+on+a+few+childhood+memories+of+his+deceased+father%22&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us

[DavidW]

I'm not a person that cries alot, but when I do it always takes me by surprise.  It's like you just find yourself a mess.  I have cried fiercely over the loss of my grandparents, but the passing of my pet dog reminds me of your story Schlomo for the sudden shock and surprise that snuck up on me. 

I had her since she was a puppy and we grew up together but in her old age she was in alot of pain.  My parents and I took her to be put down and I wanted to be with her when that happened.  But understanding intellectually what was to happen was not the same as being there.  When she went from being alive one instant to being dead I felt like a great hand had squeezed my heart like a pulpy orange and tears had squirted out.  I'm sharing this not for matching the grief of the passing of a loved one but for the complete shock that I found myself for being not in control whatsoever.

[Satzaroo]

Out of curiosity, why are you posting this here and now? According to the link below, this is someting you posted elsewhere in April, along with other postings that have made their way to the Diner. No rule against it I guess, but what is your motivation for doing so?

http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:oZKrLdkBZmQJ:share-ws4-md.aarp.org/community/portfolio/journals/index.jsp%3Fmembername%3Dschlomo%26pageNum%3D3+%22He+used+no+histrionics%E2%80%94he+began+by+soberly+reflecting+on+a+few+childhood+memories+of+his+deceased+father%22&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us

To share with a wider audience.

[Satzaroo]

I'm not a person that cries alot, but when I do it always takes me by surprise.  It's like you just find yourself a mess.  I have cried fiercely over the loss of my grandparents, but the passing of my pet dog reminds me of your story Schlomo for the sudden shock and surprise that snuck up on me. 

I had her since she was a puppy and we grew up together but in her old age she was in alot of pain.  My parents and I took her to be put down and I wanted to be with her when that happened.  But understanding intellectually what was to happen was not the same as being there.  When she went from being alive one instant to being dead I felt like a great hand had squeezed my heart like a pulpy orange and tears had squirted out.  I'm sharing this not for matching the grief of the passing of a loved one but for the complete shock that I found myself for being not in control whatsoever.

My wife used to work at a pet shop. One night, she took one of the puppies to our dorm room. I was to return him early the next day. The dog peed on the carpet and squirmed around on our bed most of the night--I may have gotten two hours sleep. The next morning, while I was carrying the pup back to the store, I started crying . I didn't realize how much I was  attached to that critter. I wanted to keep him, but pets weren't allowed in the married housing dorms.
We have had a few cats and dogs since then, but I'll never forget my first encounter with that lovable (if sloppy) pup.

[Bulldog]

I'm not a person that cries alot, but when I do it always takes me by surprise.  It's like you just find yourself a mess.  I have cried fiercely over the loss of my grandparents, but the passing of my pet dog reminds me of your story Schlomo for the sudden shock and surprise that snuck up on me. 

I had her since she was a puppy and we grew up together but in her old age she was in alot of pain.  My parents and I took her to be put down and I wanted to be with her when that happened.  But understanding intellectually what was to happen was not the same as being there.  When she went from being alive one instant to being dead I felt like a great hand had squeezed my heart like a pulpy orange and tears had squirted out.  I'm sharing this not for matching the grief of the passing of a loved one but for the complete shock that I found myself for being not in control whatsoever.

Like you, I'm not into emotional displays.  However, I also shed some tears when my collie named Katie was put down by our vet.  She was quite old and hardly able to stand up.  When my wife and I took her to the vet, we got her to lie down; I got down with her, held her and made sure we were looking at each other.  It took very little time for the shot to work, but I could swear there was an instant where Katie went from looking distressed to looking relieved and content before she passed away.  Whether based in reality or not, it's that contented look that I most remember about that day. 

Now, our current dog, General Jackson is over 80 years old in human years.  He's slowing down, and I suppose it won't be very long before his time will come to a conclusion.  That sounds rather morose, so I'll end this posting by saying that dogs are man's best friends and easily worth any distress that comes along the way.

To Szykniej:

This is an original posting not to be found elsewhere on the internet.    

[greg]

Crryyy yourrseeellffff to asshhheessssssssssssss


Interesting... I didn't know people still cry sometimes. Probably the last time I cried was when I was a kid (with the exception of a dream I had about two or three years ago, where I dreamed I was looking down a waterfall- when I woke up, it felt like so much misery was coming out that I was dying). I never cried when or after my grandma or dog died, though I definitely would if it were someone a little bit closer.

[DavidW]

Well said Bulldog.

Boy I would like it if my current apt allowed pets.

Greg it seems like you live your life through your dreams.

[drogulus]

     My apartment is too small for crying.
     

To share with a wider audience.

We're not particularly wide.

     
     
     

[MN Dave]

This thread made me cry 

[Satzaroo]

     My apartment is too small for crying.
          We're not particularly wide.

But most of you are articulate and widely read.