I wonder how many tears I will cry in a lifetime? I often hear people say that they never saw__________ (insert name) cry and I just can’t fathom.
We live in a world where our friends and family experience such tragedy, that I can’t imagine never publicly crying.
I wear my emotions on my sleeve. My kids laugh at how easily things can make me cry. As strong and sarcastic as I am, I cry. I cry during movies, while reading books, or watching old videos. Recently, Courtney was in dress up clothes in the backseat of our car and the next thing you know, I was crying to Dave that this may be the last time I turn around and see one of our girls wearing dress up clothes.
The girls already look at me in a teenagery way and say- Are…you… CRYinggg? Yes, girls I am and for the rest of your life you will see lots of happy and some sad tears.
What event in your life made you cry the hardest? Can you think of the time? Are there too many that you can’t pinpoint just one specific moment?
When I was inpatient at Bryn Mawr Rehab, I shed more tears than I had ever cried. During that time, I cried so much, it would often feel like I had no had tears left. I was just so sad. On one particular day, I remember Dave wheeling me down to a bridge at the rehab and as he sat on the bench next to my wheelchair, I felt like my tears were going to increase the water level of the pond. I remember thinking the man made pond beneath me was filled with all the tears of everyone who previously sat where I was sitting. I would go through boxes of tissues each day. I cried because I hated being there. I cried because I hated that I needed help. I cried because I hated physical therapy. I cried because I hated that I had to practice holding a baby with a stupid doll. I cried because strange people had to help me get dressed. I cried because Camryn and Brynlee came to visit me and I didn’t want to see them. I cried because everyday I threw up for hours due to the 22 pound hematoma on my stomach that had yet to be discovered. I cried because I had babies and didn’t even care. I cried because people there were so much worse off than me and I hated that I had the audacity to feel badly for myself. I cried because I hated that Dave wasn’t crying.
During my recovery, Dave would cry, but they were tears of victory. Seeing me get to sitting, walking for the first time, drinking for the first time, moving out of the ICU, getting my trach removed, and hearing my lovely voice 😀again for the first time were just a few examples of his tears that represented recovery.
Recently, Dave shared with a group of our friends that he cried so much during one of my first nights at HUP that he literally made a puddle on the floor beneath him. I was in a surgery that took hours longer than they told him it was going to take. At that time, all he could do was imagine the worst. In complete desperation, he walked out of the waiting room, leaned his head against the wall, and sobbed. He cried because his future was so unknown. How was he going to raise four girls alone?
My heart sunk for the pain and desperation he must have felt. Dave is one of the strongest people I know. He is a rock. He is stable. To hear him share that raw emotion rocked me. It was unimaginable to picture Dave at his lowest. He is the glue that holds us together. He is wise and sound. I am impulsive and emotional. To think how vulnerable and unsure he was is hard to imagine.
When we visited HUP a few weeks back, Dave showed me the spot where he cried. I just stood there as Dave and the girls began to move on before taking the picture I posted below. I stood there and thanked God that He held Dave up and helped him fight for me when I couldn’t. I thanked God that I am here now.
Life is so precious. We just don’t always realize it. This picture will forever serve as a reminder that the tears we shed make us stronger.
As a couple, we have cried lots of tears, but finding joy despite the tears will forever be our mission.