Somewhere back in my late teens and early twenties, I seem to remember that I was quite proud of the fact that I would not let anyone see me cry. I wore that pride like a girl scout badge. I sewed it on my life sash with loving care, making sure each stitch was just as invisible as my tears. But after all these years it’s getting a little tattered and it doesn’t mean quite so much to me anymore.

Crying isn’t a bad thing. After all, even “Jesus wept” and many beautiful words have been used to describe the simple act of crying.

“The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep.” ~Henry Maudsley

“Let your tears come. Let them water your soul.” ~Eileen Mayhew

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. “~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, 1860.

“Tearless grief bleeds inwardly” ~Christian Nevell Bovee

“To weep is to make less the depth of grief. “~William Shakespeare, King Henry the Sixth

“It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by tears.” ~Ovid
“Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it.” ~Albert Smith

“Tears are God’s gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow.” ~Rita Schiano, Sweet Bitter Love.
“What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul.” ~Jewish Proverb

“It is such a secret place, the land of tears. “~Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

That’s not to say that I never cry. I do. At silly stuff. Movies, Hallmark commercials, coffee ads. I used to cry on the radio every year during the St. Jude Radiothon. Serious Sobbing. But in situations that show that my deep down emotions are being scraped raw, the tears remain firmly in place. No wetness along the lash line to give me the glassy eyed hope that, maybe, with a blink or two, they will fall in sweet release down my face.

I hope it’s not to late for me. I don’t want to come across as heartless and uncaring. That’s not the impression I want to make. If I could open up my heart to you you would see the unshed tears and the silent sobs that I couldn’t show you while you were standing before me. Maybe, as I approach this 50^th milestone in my life, I can relearn to share the tiny little jewels that are tears and stop clinging to the false sense of pride I have been carrying around, believing wrongly, that staying dry eyed made me the stronger person.