I can handle a lot. I’m emotionally strong, and it takes a lot to get me weepy.
This past weekend, the hubbs and I were chatting about his mom’s sudden passing last year. How unexpected it was. How sad we were. And how she gave the two of us one last really good day … and how grateful we are that she did.
We were both talking about that horrible week last year. About her long battle with M.S. and his Step-Dad’s devotion to her. We talked about that week before her passing; her husband in and out of the ICU and then surgery, about our trying to figure out care options for her while trying to do our jobs, too. We talked about who was wonderful and supportive to us and who acted like a selfish jerk. We talked about leaving her house that last day and knowing, deep in our souls, that this might be it. That the end was coming and that we were not ready but that she was. We talked about that phone call the next morning, about making calls to others to tell them that no – he was ok, he’d made it through his surgery, but that we’d lost her in the process. We talked about planning the funeral, picking out a dress for her, and how grotesque it felt to choose a casket. We talked of our wonderful friends who opened their hearts to us and lifted us up in prayer and food and hugs and beer. We spoke of the absurdity of certain people’s behavior and those unbelievable moments of clarity when plans came together effortlessly, even when they shouldn’t have. And then I saw it. His head tilted ever so slightly to the left and he looked up at me from where he sat. I could see the tears forming in his eyes, and his resolve to hold them in. I saw those broad shoulders tremble and heard him take in a deep breath.
And then, simply, quietly, matter-of-factly, he put his head down and he cried.
That big-shouldered, hearty hunk of a man of mine let the tears flow. It was necessary. It was gut-wrenching.
And I was fine .. until he cried.
ok…now you’ve got me going…takes me back to the vigil of watching my mom pass after a 4 year cancer battle. Crying’s a good thing…even though guys are told from day one it’s not the manly thing to do. It’s wonderful he was able to share that with you…what a beautiful gift you have given each other.
Thank you, Cooper. I am sorry about your loss as well; I don’t care what anyone says, we never get over it. We just … get through it.
My condolences for your loss.
What caught my eye about your tale and seemed to jump off the page were the constant words of: “we talked”…”we spoke”……………..
Any man that can communicate like that harbors emotion and tears…..hats off to you!
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A very astute observation. He’s a deep thinker and, when relaxed and at home he can not only vocalize his loss, but also feel safe enough to show his feelings about it, too. Thank you for visiting; MJ.
I agree with you. I have never “gotten over” my dad leaving so early. I have just learned how to manage my grief. What great friends, you and your husband must be. Thanks for sharing this.
You know, we really are great friends; he’s a wonderful friend and a great hubby. He’s the one person whose advice I always seek, whose approval I always want, whose company I miss most if he’s away.
And, like you, I’ve never gotten over the loss of my Dad. You never do. For me, I just have compartmentalized it to a place where it doesn’t hurt quite so much but, every once in a while, it sneaks out and bites me a good one.
Thanks for visiting, Lissa.
I was just thinking today about how we all have really, really difficult times in our lives that we have to deal with, whether we’ve experienced them yet or not. Not everyone is able to handle these times with grace, but you and your hubby seem to have managed it – together. I can only imagine it has brought you closer and made you stronger.
Thank you, Terri, it did bring us even closer and opened our eyes, too. Unfortunately, as we get older, we’re facing more of this. It’s hard. But there were also moments of beauty – and even humor – in the midst of all of the heartache. We tried to remember that our boys were closely watching us for direction and that kept our actions in check, too. Thanks for visiting and weighing in. MJ
We lost my mother-in-law just over two years ago to complications of M.S. So much of what you’ve written here strikes a chord in my heart. And I, too, am fine… until he cries.
A beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Michelle, for commenting … and I’m sorry for your loss as well. Now that we have some distance, I can see the lessons that were in there for all of us. MJ.
sorry. Please take heart.