Her daughter died very tragically seven years ago. We long ago passed from meeting together so I could walk beside her through the grieving process. We became wonderfully close friends who get together when we can to talk like old and close friends do. We think alike in so many areas of life. We seem to like discovering new things about the long term impact of grief. She has taught me much more than I have taught her, so I look forward to each time we are together. 

As this is being written, it is the Christmas season. We had a great visit yesterday. We talked of the season, how harried we feel at this time of the year, and yet how grand kids make it all worthwhile. We both think we have the best ones ever made. Almost in passing, she mentioned that she had been crying that morning. When I asked her why, she said, "Oh! It must just be the season, but I have been crying a lot lately." She changed the subject but I worked the conversation back there. I had to do that about three times before she felt free or safe to talk about the fact that she was still crying seven years after the death of her daughter. It was almost like it is all right to miss her daughter. It is all right to grieve her death. But somehow it is not all right to cry. 

Why are we so ashamed of our tears? Why do we feel we must go off somewhere and hide while we cry. Why do we instantly deny their presence when we are caught? "I wasn't crying, there is something in my eye." 

Is it that tears are a sign of weakness? Or is it that we feel the discomfort of those around us when we cry and so we need to hide? People are certainly not comfortable with tears. The first one to fall will get an immediate offer of a tissue. The second one to fall will get some kind of "Don't cry" message. A few more and folks will be ready to call the doctor to get a tranquilizer. That is true only if you are crying in front of a woman. One tear in front of most men, and you stand alone. They run.

That is really sad, for tears are the most natural response to pain or grief we have. I often write about my anger when I see a mother clamp a hand across the mouth of a child in some public place to keep the child from embarrassing her after the child has been hurt in some way. Being embarrassed by tears starts early in life. Stifling them in public is almost second nature. And yet what is a child suppose to do when someone steps on their hand? Laugh? The natural thing to do when we hurt is cry. Trying to stifle these feelings is not only futile it is unhealthy.

Tears release our emotions. Swallowed emotions lead to depression which brings on more tears to be hidden which causes more feelings to be suppressed, which puts us on a not very merry-go-round. The best thing to do with grief is grieve and the best way to grieve is to cry.

Tears clear the mind. This is not only true in grief, it is true in all areas of life. When we are worried or sad or burdened with some heavy issue, a good cry always seems to make us feel better. Being a man, I seem to feel the need to hold it in as long as possible. I sometimes wonder if I enjoy the pain. When I can finally have a good cry, the load seems like it can be carried.

My friend and I talked about tears yesterday. This morning I sent her this message:

Tears are memories in motion

Tears are feelings set free

Tears are angers untying

Tears are love being exposed.

Tears are the most sincere way to say I love you,

The most honest way to say I miss you,

And the best way of all to grieve.

They should flow in freedom and be worn with pride.