The Next Teardrop

There are days that seem to never end. Those are the days when the tears fall the most. It does not matter what direction you turn, how hard you resist, how frantically you try to push away from the pain, the next teardrop falls. How does the human body have such a capacity for so many tears? Someone once said that the amount of tears you cry throughout your life could raise the level of an ocean. I believe that now. If you captured a tear of such deep sorrow, under a scope, would it look different from other emotional tears? How could they not look different, they are the tears of lost tomorrows.

It is the nights though that go on forever. When we are in physical pain, it seems the night-time brings that pain on worse so it stands to reason that our mental pain would be worse then too. Every little noise has us sitting up, listening closer, wondering if the spirit of our loved one is there or if there is an intruder. We feel the fear, but not for our lives, it is for the unknown. Hoping it is them, yet afraid it might be. To be them makes it too real all over again. Still, we cannot lay back down until we know where the noise came from. Relief and disappointment war with each other when we find the source. The tears fall fuller at night when the part of the world we know sleeps. That is the time we feel most alone. The time when we cry where no one will see or hear. The heartache is deeper more complete without distraction to take our minds off our loss even for a short time. It is the time when I write as I cry. I write in three different journals, by hand. They are not normal journals, they are the journals of my sorrow, my pain, my anger, my tears.

We can't stop the tears from falling. I'm sure, if we could, we would. They are in their own way, healing. If you notice, your chest gets so tight during the day, it's hard to breath, your eyes burn, your mind is chaotic. When you finally stop fighting them and just let the tears fall, it is a touch of magic. You feel a little of the weight ease off your chest, your mind calms a little and you are able to think a little more clearly. It does not last long, but any ease is better than none. Let the tear drops fall. You are not weak or self-pitying... you are suffering and learning to walk again.

In the beginning, we can't hide nor stop the tears. They fall continuously and without notice. They are just there, shocking us in there fury. As time goes by, we fight the tears, we don't want to cry in front of others. We worry that we will make them uncomfortable. We also worry that someone will say something about it and hurt us with their words. For all the hurt we have been dealt, we can still have that hurt added too by others. We hide away our tears of pain and at the same time, want the world to see, to understand. What a twisted road grief is. It is just my husband and I here, but most of the time, I find a private place to cry, like the shower. I know he hurts too so I am afraid of adding to his hurt by my tears and sorrow. Maybe if he can heal a little, I can heal a little to.

We think that if we cry, we will lose control and never be able to stop. Holding them back and not allowing them to fall only makes us hurt more. All that emotion has to go somewhere. Keeping it all bottled up inside will destroy us physically as well as mentally. Yeah, it takes a toll on our health. We may not care about that for a while, but in time, it becomes important. As we find our feet again, we don't need health issues keeping us down too. So many things happen in times of loss so much to deal with.

I am not ashamed of the tears. They are there and I own them. For each tear drop there is healing. I won't ever heal completely, how could I? The price of love is steep. My tears are for myself, for my son, for a world that feels this pain that no one should feel. Sometimes the tears are just because my emotions have to be relieved somehow. I cry alone most of the time. Not because I am hiding my pain but because I don't have to worry about anyone, I can just let them fall for as long as they want. I cry for those who are alone with no one to share a piece of their burden. There are so many. I can only hope that their tears help them heal even just a little bit. Such is this life we now live. Even a little bit would be a lot to our damaged hearts. Someday, I won't need to cry as much, but yeah, I think we will always have tears for those we love.

About the Author

 My son, Tim, passed on January 5th 2014 at the age of 34. He chose to end his life. So many things happened to bring him to that point. Believe it or not, I understand why. No matter how our child died, that is the keyword 'our child.' I wish you all gentle days and nights as you walk your path. Barbara, 'Forever Mom.'

I'm Grieving, Now What?