12.30.2009

A New Grief

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.”--Washington Irving

I have come to realize over the years that, to me, crying is a sign of weakness. That it is an inability to solider on, to deal rationally with problems or at times just a silly response. Not that I have never cried but rarely in public and when I do I promptly berate myself for allowing such an emotional break. I've been one to silently pride myself on my lack of tearful emotion, to look at those who weep on a dime with distaste and to extract myself from "sticky" sad situations.

Death, however, draws me to a new place.

I have known people who've passed away, I have myself have been dangerously close before, and yet nothing prepared me for the unexpected grief when my longtime friend left this world. I found myself living in a zombie state wanting only to cry yet years of discipline left my cheeks dry. Like a pro I avoided any and all people, things and places that may churn up memories. I prayed diligently for his family, not really knowing what to pray for. I found my days distracted by movies, work, shopping and a healthy dose of Guinness. I found my nights to be sleepless and filled with memories I fought. These memories begged for airtime and begged for tears. Tears that I could not shed. Saline locked away in a formal and anatomical place that my heart was not allowed access.

There is a beautifully tragic scene in Australia where Nalah's mother drowns and he tells Mrs. Boss Lady, "We can't say her name anymore." I've been thinking of this recently of how most cultures and society have a way of grieving, a way that they are able to make sense of tremendous loss and to comfort one another. Be it tribal rituals, sitting Shiva or having a wake there is something wonderful about having a path on which to tearfully tread while you struggle to reconcile the heart and head around such loss. Have we become a society of stupid strength? Or is it just me?

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.”--Washington Irving

Monday night I embraced the memories. I listened to the saved birthday voicemail. I recalled the bear hugs and fights and words of encouragement. I remembered the time at Winterflash where he frustrated me so much that I bit him. I remembered the time he toasted my career accomplishments and the times he pushed me to go further. I remembered the drive to and from Bellingham and telling him to just stop complaining and make something happen. I remember the time he gave me wine because my roommate didn't like alcohol is the apartment. I remembered the conversations around faith, theology and life in general. We last talked days before he passed away, I recalled our conversation and the plans we made.

I remembered Justin and I cried.

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