Crying

Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with me.

I have not cried much since George died and wonder if that is normal or not. And it really made me wonder: is it necessary to cry if you are mourning somebody?

I loved him so much and yet I do not seem to be able to cry for him. The only thing that really sets me off is when I talk to somebody for the very first time about what happened – be it a friend, family member or complete stranger.  

You think you must cry, because that is how you grieve properly, isn’t it? If you watch a movie where somebody dies, people are bawling their eyes out. You read a book and it describes how people react to a death of a loved one – friends and family are inconsolable. Even watching the news on TV, you see people breaking down and crying when they talk about losing somebody dear to their heart. You will have also experienced it with your own friends and family when somebody has died, sitting with them, holding their hand, comforting them. And don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with crying, whether you are an adult or child, it is such a helpful way to release emotions and a completely natural way to deal with grief, hurt, disappointment, fear, anxiety, etc.

So why I am not crying? I mean, I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat when I watch something moving on TV or in a movie, like a wedding of complete strangers or a bunch of actors. I need a box of tissues when I read a novel that has a soppy plot and weep about some fictional characters breaking up. Yesterday I was in a flood of tears when I had to say goodbye in a virtual meeting to my work colleagues who were made redundant. I get emotional quite often and I think of me as an empathetic and caring person.

So, what is going on with me? Why can I not cry about George?

I was reflecting on this for a long time and then it hit me – thinking of George makes me happy.

I often look at the hundreds of photos I have of George and instead of feeling sad, I notice after a while that I have a huge grin on my face. Talking of the circumstances of his death is a different matter, as that is still raw and utterly unbelievable to me. But thinking of him alive, and that is how I want to remember him, brings me joy. Reminiscing our many wonderful holidays and our life together, brings me joy. I am so grateful to have been able to spend all this time with him, and I am aware that not many people have this much love and closeness in their lives.

I hear his voice in my head all the time and I often know exactly what he would have said at that precise moment, how he would have reacted to a news story, whether he would have liked a new song. We knew each other so well – we would often say the same thing at the same time, finishing each other’s sentences and automatically thinking of doing or buying exactly what the other one wanted, without communicating. It was like we could read each other’s minds, but not in a spooky psychic way, but because we knew each other inside out.  And somehow, I am still reading his mind, his thoughts.

In a way George has not left me at all. He is still here with me, in my soul, in my heart and in my head. I am not religious or spiritually inclined and I don’t believe in an afterlife or reincarnation, but I truly believe that if you have a deep and lasting mutual love with somebody, they will always be with you. Wherever you are, whatever you do.

So, I am not crying. I much rather have a smile on lips than tears in my eyes.

And I no longer feel bad about it.