Weepy.
September 15, 2006I think I need some meds again. But at the same time, it’s kind of nice to feel so raw and vulnerable for a change. I’ve never been one of those people who can cry at sweet moments or poignant moments, and it takes a really good movie to make me cry at sad moments, too. I don’t know if it’s really in my disposition to be so stoic; I am quite practiced at stuffing things down, especially sadness and vulnerability. My mother is not a crier. She could hold things inside until she exploded. Not sure what that was about. I do remember her tearing up when we were driving off in our moving truck on the way to Boston. My dad says that he didn’t ever see her cry when her father died.
So, anyway, that’s to say that sometimes it feels good to be living so much on the edge of one’s emotions that the tears spill over so easily. It means that I’m not so clamped down that the gatekeeper in my head is assessing whether each emotional display is OK given who’s around and what’s going on and that I’m not going overboard or something. Heaven forbid, I make anyone uncomfortable by showing what I’m truly feeling.
That’s all to say that I’ve been really touched by several things in the past few weeks. We got to watch Spike*Lee’s movie about New Orleans recently. It took me back to the night right after Katrina moved through last year when I was up late watching the news about the people stranded in the Superdome. I remember not being able to sleeping and crying to Jim, “Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why isn’t anyone helping these poor people?” While watching “When the Levees Broke”, again, I found myself in tears as this poor man described trying to keep his elderly mother alive in the Superdome, answering her requests for updates about when the buses were coming to get them. Eventually, she died right there and when the buses finally came, her son had no choice but to leave her behind. It was her body in the wheelchair that was pictured so often in the Katrina coverage.
On Monday night (September 11th anniversary), we watched a Front*line piece about how people’s faith was changed by September 11th. It was really fascinating to hear all kinds of people from lots of different faiths, including clergy, rabbis, religion professors, widows, etc. talk about their innermost thoughts about God and their faith after September 11th. There was a widow of a fireman, who spoke heartbrachingly about how after her husband was killed, she couldn’t feel God’s presence anymore. She used to talk to Him throughout her day, saying prayers and what-have-you. But afterwards, she felt lost, abandoned and unable to reconcile her idea of who God is/was with what had happened, as you might imagine you would feel, too if the same thing happened. But I listened to her speak with tears just running down my face. What a dark, dark place so many people had been thrust into, void of comfort and hope.
But it’s not just about pain and loss in this world that somehow echoes deep in my soul — I’ve been caught off guard of late by poignant moments of tenderness, joy and relief. The husband of a dear fellow blogger just returned after 6 months in Iraq. She managed to capture the first moment she saw him with her camera. Her pictures of those first few moments had the tears flowing once again. Thanks for sharing those intimate family moments with us. 
Anyway, so yeah, just call me a bit weepy of late.
What makes you cry?
