Crying is Good for You?

Why is crying good for you? What pleasure can I find in it. What improvement to one’s body or soul results? Red sore eyes and a pile of soggy tissues? But when I tell friends (or even strangers for now I talk to everyone) how much I cry they tell me it is necessary and I must cry more (how much more can I cry). I am told it will make me feel better? How?

And why do I feel I must cry alone. That crying in front of others is somehow unmanly, unseemly. And what little things start it off. This afternoon the radio played Louis Armstrong’s “We have all the Time in the World” a beautiful song that starts tears coursing down my face as I drive. Because we didn’t have all the time”. Time was oh so short. And all those plans for our “grey” years vanished. The Great Wall, the Pyramids, Manchu Picchu, Angkor Wat. All these things she will never see.

So I resolve not to waste the time I have left for she would not want me to sit and cry for she loved me. But my new found sense of urgency seems lost on the world about me. People dance to their same old tunes and no one else seems ready to risk grabbing a little happiness in the dark. Are we frightened to dare? Probably until the fear of eternity looms bigger by which time it may well be too late.

Missing Her

I am alone. I have never felt so alone so isolated from the world. She left and with her parting my whole life evaporated like so much dry ice, a life together that can never be repeated. So I cry.

How pathetic have I become. This empty house where the silence reverberates around me. Who am I crying for. For her or for my loneliness. I can’t tell. Or perhaps I can’t face my truth.

I am desperate for company. I sit and wait for the door bell to chime, the phone to ring or even the ping of an email. But no one comes. My friends ring but fewer now and less regularly now three months has past. Yes I am fine, everything is OK. It would be lovely to see them and we will talk of her and all the great times we spent together. And we will look at her photos and smile as we remember how lovely she was, how beautiful, how kind, how loving. And they will go back to their wives and tell them how strong I am. And leave me in my empty house.

I can cope. I watch a comedy on television and laugh. The Iranian woman is hilarious I read the paper and do the crossword but get stuck on 23 down. I play some 60s music but it makes me sad. But I am in control. I am OK. I am managing. And then it is time for bed.

I climb the stairs to the bedroom we shared and try to hide from the silence. But it surrounds me, smothers me. I can’t control it anymore and weep uncontrollably. How do I stop feeling like this. She will never come back and I am alone. I climb beneath the cold sheets and no arm comes across to warm me. No one whispers good night in my ear pr gently kisses me. How can I sleep. Will I ever sleep again?