Sunday, January 15, 2012

CRYING

Kenny was such a cute little baby, but he was so sensitive and cried easily, even if someone just looked cross at him. Later, as he grew, he learned to hold his emotions inside and not show them as much because people called him a “cry-baby.” He was so sensitive that he would cry at the drop of a hat, yet he had a hard time controlling him when it hit him. He didn't like being a cry-baby.

Kenny's birthday was all he dreamed it would be, except for that one thing that happened that day... he cried. It was his 8th year on this earth, and somehow, he felt, it was supposed to be his special day. Yet he was disappointed in his party, and that the friends he enjoyed most could not come. His mom yelled at him for crying, “Boys shouldn't cry,” which made things worse. He felt inadequate for crying on his birthday.

Kenny, at age 12, was hit by a baseball bat in the groin, and again, he cried. This was a pain like no other pain he had ever felt. Kenny fell to the ground, coiled up in a ball, holding what was left of his balls, nearly fainting from the agony. He noticed only that a single kid was laughing at him, but then shut his eyes, squeezing out tears, unable to see anything else. He hated crying.

Kenny, later went by the name Ken, since he was 16 and much too old to be called by nicknames. His first real, deeply felt crush, Jennifer, was the talk of the town... although she had been rather homely in her younger years, everyone remarked how she had blossomed both in physical beauty, with rounded curves, as well as in mental smarts. Ken decided to grab his courage and asked Jennifer out, but she declined him, and his heart sunk instantly to the pit of his stomach, and down to the lowest part of his belly. Feeling rejected, he went to the bathroom stall to get away from prying eyes, where he cried silently, ashamed of his own tears.

Ken, at age 30, sat at his dad's bedside, watching as his father had wasted away to skin and bones. The cancer had taken his livelihood, and later the rest of his health, as well as his dignity. Ken felt so helpless, so powerless to change what had occurred over the years to his gentle-natured father, and he felt it was not fair. Life was not fair; it was not what he expected it should be, and people, as well as professional people, were simply not as reliable as they made out. He was angry, and sad. As his father took his last breath, Ken held him in his arms. Ken cried, and cried. On and off, Ken cried for years, and his sadness overcame his abilities to suppress crying. He felt like a girl because of crying so easily and so much.

Ken met Katheryn at age 42, and they hit it off immediately. Having been single for much of his life, with short and long-term girlfriends coming and going over time, he was ready for what Kathryn brought to his life. They just loved being together. She touched his life and heart like no other. They talked about their future together, and made plans and goals that were part of both of their dreams. One day, as Kathryn wrote him a song and sung it to him, he realized her words of love were so deep and true, and he found himself weeping from sheer happiness! He apologized for crying so easily, as he had always done, but she just held him close and said, “Baby, I love that you can cry, and that you can show me who you really are inside. I am amazed at the beauty of your sensitivity, and love your tears. It is one of the many things that attracted me to you the most.” She kissed his wet face, tasting the salty tears that streamed down his cheek. Her own eyes welled up and they just held each other, smiling and crying together. This changed his values about crying.

Ken realized that crying wasn't so bad after all... it was part of who he was, and it was okay. Crying made him realize his sensitivity actually portrayed him as having great strength of character, and gave him a sense of worth as a man who could relate to people, especially his dearest love. It touched Kathryn in a positive way, and he realized it could touch others, and so from then, forward, Ken chose to cry whenever he felt he needed to, or felt to. Crying was good, necessary, and a welcome release. Crying, he thought, is important.

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