All kinds of crying

You may have heard that the Eskimos have many names for the one word "snow", including many for snowflake, fallen snow, snow formations, and snowstorm. I have a similar relationship with crying. I can identify several, along with their purpose.

There is the quiet sentimental cry, one tear or several rolling down your cheek while watching a moving performance, be it in the movies or at the theatre. You are usually not alone as others wipe their eyes with whatever is handy, before the lights come up.

There is the I'm-so-mad-I-cannot-help-but-cry when trying to explain to someone who is thought to be empathetic to the situation. Usually words get jumbled up in the tears, and one must stop several times and re-explain what was just said. Tears flow easily, and depending on how frustrating/hurtful the situation, one will usually feel quite done in when the crying stops.

I have seen co-workers who have busted their butt to work on a project, and usually because of fatigue, someone can make a harsh judgemental comment, and that person leaves the room and heads for the ladies room to shed a few tears. They usually pull themselves back together and return as though nothing was amiss.

What was new for me after my husband died was what I can only describe as the "grief" cry. For weeks after he died, I would be driving, or at home alone, and I would be lamenting his passing, or think of some recent event with him, and this crying would begin that left me feeling as though my heart was literally breaking apart. My chest would hurt, I would sob and I felt inconsolable. This was quite a cause for consternation for a police officer who stopped after I had jumped a curb and blown a tire about a month after my husband had passed.
I am sure I was already a bit teary-eyed, headed home from work, when I jumped the curb. Mind you, the car had very little damage, and a flat tire, but my late husband had always been the one to take care of the cars. In that moment, I realized that this was another thing he was not going to be around to take care of. I began to sob inconsolably, and when a police officer who just happened by, tried to speak with me, I was unintelligible. I think he thought I was either drunk or had taken drugs. He was really a little at a loss to know what to think. I realized I needed to pull it together enough to explain that my husband had recently died, and I quickly called a relative and asked him to explain to the officer what had happened. The relative assured the officer that he would be there shortly to help me get home, and that I would be fine.

For the past 3+ years, this cry has certainly diminished with time and healing, but every once in a while, I can be watching one of my favorite sit-coms, where someone is dying, and that cry is back. The good news is that now it does not last nearly as long, and I recognize it for what it is. This knowing, in and of itself, is a sure sign for me that there has been healing through the grief.