First, my constant companions throughout life, let me give you just parts of the definitions of each of you...to reprint the entire definitions here would take up pages and I'd like to have some space to say what I'd like to say:
tear
[teer]
–noun
1. a drop of the saline, watery fluid continually secreted by the lacrimal glands between the surface of the eye and the eyelid, serving to moisten and lubricate these parts and keep them clear of foreign particles.
2. this fluid appearing in or flowing from the eye as the result of emotion, especially grief.
3. something resembling or suggesting a tear, as a drop of a liquid or a tearlike mass of a solid substance, especially having a spherical or globular shape at one end and tapering to a point at the other.
5. tears, grief; sorrow.
–verb (used without object)
—Idiom cry
[krahy]
–verb (used without object)
1. to utter inarticulate sounds, especially of lamentation, grief, or suffering, usually with tears.
2. to weep; shed tears, with or without sound.
3. to call loudly; shout; yell (sometimes followed by out ).
4. to demand resolution or strongly indicate a particular disposition: The rise in crime cried out for greater police protection.
6. (of a hound or pack) to bay continuously and excitedly in following a scent.
7. (of tin) to make a noise, when bent, like the crumpling of paper.
Idioms
So, Crying and Tears, you can see the different incarnations of each of you that I find the most important as I address you. As you know, we've had a long, involved relationship. For me, you are employed to express my every emotion. You'd think I'd just write a letter to you, Crying, but that wouldn't work. Crying is action and sound, even if in grief and not (though usually) accompanied by tears. You, Tears, are the "saline, watery fluid" that appears in or flows from the eye as a result of emotion, especially grief. So there are tears and there is crying and there is the combination: tears flowing, accompanying inarticulate sounds. That's good old sobbing I see in that combination, and it's what I do most often, but not always.
In times of stress or conflict, I can be overcome to the point that you, Tears, literally just start leaking out of my eyes and dropping to the floor. It doesn't seem to be something I can control, though God knows I've tried. I can get my feelings hurt and the immediate sting of that afflicts me with another definition from above, where one "Tears up." I've seen people do just that, Tears, and then blink you back, but once you're "up" I am seldom able to keep you from overflowing and falling down.
When I was younger and would cry-every time a bug died, every time I thought someone wasn't being treated fairly, every time someone looked at me sideways, every time I felt shy (translate=75+% of the time) and on and on. My father would say, "save your tears." He'd tell me about all of the really bad things that could happen that would be truly said and then what would I do when I didn't have any tears left?
I'm not sure anything has ever sounded so ridiculous to me. I am a never ending font of you, Tears, along with flowing snot and the sounds made by Crying. When I mourn, I stay in my bed and I take the two of you with my and you become my constant companions. Crying, you bring forth such quantities of Tears (and the ever present snot), accompanied with your own "inarticulate sounds," that I'm sure I've frightened neighbors. I dream my bed into a raft and float away on a lake of you, Tears, or a castle, where Crying creates Tears to form a moat and inarticulate sounds to scare away intruders.
Sure, I've tried to use the two of you to protect me; when you're sobbing, it's hard to think about anything other than your grief and sorrow and sometimes, that's easiest. Crying and Tears, you express the feelings perfectly, but you shield me from having to consider what comes next. How will I blow my nose one last time, after 14 rolls of toilet paper, get up and find an answer as to how to take the next step? I've always done it, but it hasn't ever meant I've left you behind on that subject, Tears and Crying, just that I have to get up and do something. I've walked around for days, weeks even, working, talking to people, having business lunches, opening birthday presents, driving, grocery shopping, etc., all with the two of you as my companions. You won't believe me when I tell you this, Tears and Crying (I know you love the limelight) but if you've been at it for long enough, people stop noticing.
When you're flowing, Tears and when you're making your sounds to go along with, Crying, it seems uncontrollable and like it'll never stop. How is it that every time I forget that it will, indeed, stop and I'll be left with a pounding headache and so much more. If I were a pretty crying, that would be one thing, but Crying, you just make me a mess, you and Tears. At the first sign of you, Tear, and a sniffle, your precursor, Crying, my eyes swell up like I've been in 13 rounds of a prize fight, snot starts flowing from my whole face, everything and I mean everything from the top of my head all the way down my chest turns horribly red. I've never "shed" you, Tear. I've never "Cried softly," you loud thing. I bawl. I sob. My chest heaves. I make horrible wailing noises and there have been times (I'm so ashamed to say) when my crying has been accompanied by begging. I have you, Crying, because that's who I am but you've never made me beg. You've just given me a "state of mind" defense and you and I both know it's bull shit...
So, Tears and Crying. I'm writing you tonight to ask you for some cooperation. This isn't my first rodeo and I know I'm never going to be able to leave you behind. I would like it, though, if you allowed me to keep the rest of my brain functioning while I Cry and Tears flow. I'm at a new point in my life, a place where the paths diverge and I can only take one. I'm not asking you to stay behind. I'm just asking that you meet me in the middle on the way to the person I've grown into and refrain from pushing and shoving aside all of my logical thinking processes. You're really both being bullies. I'd appreciate it if you could give that some thought.
On last thing. I once read a story in a magazine at a doctor's office. This couple had adopted a four-year-old little boy from a war torn country who had seen things no one should; things children shouldn't have to survive their way through. His adoptive mom took him to see "Free Willy." At the really sad part when everyone in the theater was sobbing, including her, she looked down at this little person and he was sitting straight as an arrow, eyes confused. When she asked him what he was thinking about, he told her, "not sad, Mom...just not sad...not sad."
That's what my da meant when he said "save your tears." Until I read that, it had always seemed a really insensitive reaction to my crying, uncharacteristic of him. Even though I understand it now, I haven't been able to do it. Tears, you flowed, and Crying, you made all your inarticulate sounds of lamentation when I scraped the side of the car against the house and knew I'd really screwed it up. You were there in force the next morning, though, when I found out I'd lost our baby at 14 weeks. You may have looked the same from the one day to the next, but the three of us know that my baby dying brought forth forms of both of you, Tears and Crying, that were beyond expressing frustration or anger or guilt. This was a form of you both that was utterly devoted to expressing to the whole Universe my grief over the deeply felt loss of a little soul I already knew, even if everyone else was thinking "no big deal-just try again."
I get frustrated with you both at times, Tears and Crying, but when it comes to something like a necessary call to the Universe or a lost soul, you are the best for the job, and though I haven't ever been able to save you for anything, wherever I go, there you are.
I have to go put ice on my eyes now, Tears and Crying. I've been on a "jag," as my mom would say and my head feels like I've been hit with a tire iron and that's just how I look, too. Not a pretty crier and that's never going to change. Another one of those things...I'll never be a supermodel, I'll never be a rock star, I'll never be a pretty crier...a trio of ships that have sailed.
Goodnight.
Sincerely Yours
