Tears to Triumph:. Dawn Marie Daniels

      Sharron’s story is a great example of why we cry. She was able to use her tears as the catalyst to her and Whittaker’s triumph.

      While some women may cry easier than others, most women are told not to cry in front of people. “It is embarrassing to let your guard down and you will be perceived as weak,” said one woman when asked about how she felt about crying.

      Even if you don’t shed actual tears, many women are still crying on the inside due to circumstances that seem to be beyond their control. There’s one little nasty word we need to talk about when it comes to shedding tears—control. Most women tend to see the rush of tears as losing some sort of control over their own existence. Some women may say, “Hmmph, I got this and I don’t need to cry.” Well, to that we say, what do any of us really have control over? Do you have control over the environment? The stock market? War? Unexpected illness? How many of us wake up and say, “I plan on having a heart attack today. Let me pack a bag. Call my doctor for a recommendation to a cardiologist, because I don’t have one. Check in with work and let them know I’ll be out, and find someone to pick up the kids and feed the dog.” In these cases, control is an illusion and a little, or a lot, of tear shedding is not a bad thing.

      Tears of Sorrow or Tears of Joy

      Crying has been identified with a cathartic release for some, contrasting with the feeling of being emotionally drained in others. It’s not so cut and dry. Different people cry for a myriad of reasons. For almost any situation that one can think of which would move someone to tears, there’s one exception of a person who would not cry in the same circumstance.

      What really is “cry worthy”? We adopted this term after interviewing a New England judge who explained to us that she thinks that it is appropriate to shed a tear over those things that are cry worthy. Her list of cry-worthy experiences were political triumphs that impact a nation, as when Barack Obama was elected President of the United States. She said that a sweet statement from a child was cry worthy, too. However, she hadn’t been moved to tears by either of these occurrences in the recent past. This begs the question of what makes any of us cry and how can we transform our tears into our triumphs?

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      WHEN I’M GONE, YOU’RE GONNA MISS ME

      By Seanette Vaughan

      In January 1998, I cried. One would have assumed I cried because I just lost my father. That may have been the surface reason; however, my cries were deeper than that. I really wondered if my father died not knowing that I loved him. I sobbed over and over again because I knew I would never get the answer to this question, at least not in this lifetime.

      I was so consumed with the anger I had for him walking out on our family and the endless days and nights of domestic abuse that I never saw the positive in him. He tried the best he could to be the father he thought he should be for us, but he always seemed to come up short. I even remember our “family vacations” to Albany where my dad, mom, brother, and I piled into the car to take the six-hour drive. He made it sound like an adventure, and my brother and I were none the wiser even though my mom sat in the front with a sour look on her face. It may have been on our second annual trip that I realized that we weren’t on a family vacation, but we were really going to Albany so my dad could take care of his traffic tickets that he let go into arrears. My brother didn’t catch on as fast as I did, but for some reason I felt like I had to let him know what was up. Little by little I began to lose faith in my dad.

      Not until he was gone was I able to be grateful for his presence. He was never absent from the major milestones in my life. He was present for all the birthdays and graduations; he even rode the Carolina Trailways to Virginia to see his baby girl graduate from college. He was even there for the birth of my firstborn. I never had to fret over any male laying a hand on me because in an instant my dad would be there to handle the situation—the right or wrong way.

      Thinking back, I should’ve recognized his shortcomings and that he was a man who made mistakes and would possibly continue to do so, but his love for me was unconditional and should’ve never been questioned. We fought, argued, yelled, and screamed. The worst of all the arguments was the last when he said, “When I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me.” He was never more right.

      I’ll never again be daddy’s little girl. Now who will protect me the way that my father did? Who will walk me down the aisle and give me away at my wedding? I don’t know who will, but it won’t be my daddy. I haven’t found the answers to these questions, but I have come across some realizations. I have stayed with a man for over eight years because he reminded me of my dad.

      I shed a tear externally for the loss of my father, but internally I have an ocean’s worth of tears. Each day they lessen because as I mature, I know to say “I love you” to those who matter to me, regardless of their shortcomings. Although no relationship is perfect, each is unique and special in its own way, and for the most part, can never be replaced. So my tears are those of selfish regret and not grief.