Dacryphilia… well not quite

A note to all, this post is not going to be sexy, it’s not going to be fun, and quite possibly it’s going to be too much information.

I’ve been thinking about saying something for a while, and I keep getting deterred because of a couple fo different things, not least of which being that, when I write it down, it doesn’t make any sense. But here goes:

I cry sometimes.

There it is , in three words. Having written it down it looks ridiculous, trivial, yet my finger is still itching to go back and delete them. But there’s something else, it’s an incomplete sentence. What I want to say is something more like:

I cry sometimes; and that’s a good thing.

My grandmother died last year. It was sad, but expected, and the family really came together in the best kind of way, celebrating and remembering her life. But the thing that sticks in my mind was that at no point, either before or after the funeral, did I see my father cry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry; and I don’t know how I feel about that. Yes there’s a generational thing going on, and as the eldest of his siblings he always had to be the most dependable of them. But I also feel like there was something missing, something that we couldn’t be trusted with. And I guess that hurts.

So where does this leave me? Well, I’m someone who tends to cry relatively easily (I’m really not kidding, the end of Fast & Furious 7 had me dabbing my eyes with the sleeve of a T-shirt). There are times when I actively want to cry for the catharsis of it. But it’s unlikely I’ll ever do it in front of you. But if I do, just know that it’s a good thing, because it means that I trust you.