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Tears….

God’s way to relieve the pressure.

Happy tears, sad tears, sympathetic tears. Sure, self pity tears.


Control. We all like to be in control, but crying dissuades that. Oft times, crying is hated, a last resort, so so many words said without any exiting the mouth.

Emote. Care. Concern. Worry.

I am finding, as I age, a kinda-sorta ‘return to infancy’ – ie, crying comes so very easy again. Sometimes it’s wonderful, sometimes it sucks – but hey, in the end it helps. Stories, tales, situations invoke tears easier now. We bank our emotions over the years – occasionally become satiated – and then there’s impetus to ‘the pressure valve’ and the pressure is released in the form of tears.

Happy tears. Movies. Seeing a grandkid’s pic. Friends. A loved one. Many precursors to happy tears. Initially, one feels silly – then, as reason logs in, ya turn to thankful – or at least I do. (Merember, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.)

Self pity. Sure, been there, cried that. Again, ya hide from mirrors, people in these times… feel foolish after.. but, it lends a fair hand connecting the next step – build me up buttercup.

I can’t imagine a life without emotion. Those you see that seemingly are this way – ya wonder “do you think they cry?”… or… “Do you think they care (about people, friends, family, THEMSELVES?”

I am man, hear me roar: I ain’tashamed of crying. I’m glad I do/can/have/will. What better than “feel”? Perhaps the reason behind the phrase “going to go have a good cry.”

My beautiful granddaughter Aubrie Rose… Every day at work, I flip my computer on – forget she’s my smiling screen saver – and there’s a moment of awe, always complete with a tummy yank, and yes, sometimes a tear.

She sees me quite a few times a week, but, at just under 5 months old, she’s still yet to figure out just who this grandpa feller is. I will hold her. Dote. Coo. Sing. For the first 60 to 90 seconds, I’m kinda entertaining… then… that bottom lip puckers up, without saying she says “PLEASE mister, give me back to my mommy or my daddy”, and then the tears flow. A millisecond I’m sad, then – I’m reminded, aha, they treat her well, love her so, have gained her trust. Way cool.

When I hear friends gripe, groan, type their woes on Facebook, I’ll occasionally type “crybaby.” Teasingly, lovingly. Truth is though, it’s me that’s a crybaby – but ya know what? I could give a rats what others think about that – for crying covers so many realms, emotions, past/present/future/those missing-no longer with us….. I’m happy I cry.

Love, Victeared.