When I was five I fell out of a tree at the park, breaking my arm. I yelled and screamed with tears rolling down my face. My father jerked me up by my good arm, put his face in mine and said to me "Son, listen to me, men do not cry."
At age nine I awoke to yelling and screaming coming from my folks. I crept through the house and saw my mother standing by the door. "Get the hell out my way," he roared before lashing out. Slowly I descended the stairs as my dad stormed out of the house. My mother lay on the floor sobbing as her face began to swell. I tried to comfort her by cradling her next to me. Soon I began to feel the pain that she felt, yet I never once cried.
Senior year of high school, the last football game. A routine play that went bad and my hip got dislocated. I stifled a scream by biting my lip and lay there listening to the fans. One voice stood out from the rest, it belonged to my old man. "Get up boy," was all he shouted and I struggled to comply. I fell down on the first attempt, but with a friends help I made it to our teams bench. Onward to the ambulance riding a stretcher I went without a single tear in my eye.
My girlfriend told me what I had done and what we now had to do. It was then that I realized my life was over and gone at only the age of twenty. I had destroyed both of our futures and felt nothing but loss and despair. The anxiety and fear of telling my mom that she would soon be ‘grandma' was a stress I had as of yet to feel in my life. But though I felt helpless I raised my head and gave a defiant glare asking her, "What? Do you expect me to cry?"
On my thirty-second birthday my wife found out where I spent some of my nights. She ranted and raved throwing anything she could at me but I never once turned to her to fight. I just went to my den and locked myself therein to dwell upon the pain that I had caused. My head hung low as a small voice came through the door inquiring, "Dad, what is wrong with mommy?" My head snapped up with eyes void of moisture and I replied, "Go back to bed, your dad is just acting like ‘gramps'."
Just three days ago my son graduated college at nearly the top of his class. Next year my daughter will finish high school but her mother will not be around to see it. The doctors only give her two months to live because of the lump that had developed in her breast. I gently hold her frail hand in mine with our children there, one on each side. I look deep into her eyes and I am startled to see a love that is there that she still holds for me. After all I have done and put her through she still loves me the same, maybe more, as she did the first time she lay in my arms so many years - yet so short a time - ago. My loving devoted wife of twenty three years will no more be by my side. The pain and grief I feel racks my body and causes me to tremble. To my shock she squeezes my hand, offering me support. I am a man, I know I am a man - I feel like a man as the tears roll down my face.
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Reviewed by Joshua
3/24/2003
Damn find job. A stellar mix of feeling. Very well written, i wish i could write like that then i would make million..
Yes, "real men cry," and though my cheeks are dry, my throat is tight and I am very touched by your story.
Reviewed by Claywoman
4/25/2002
You've reduced this one ol' Injun lady to tears and that's not easy unless you are a Folger's coffee commercial...Well written and a hard, hard lesson....
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
