It Only Hurts Me When I Cry

A line from a Dwight Yoakam song, about a breakup, but the lyrics apply to me as well . . . I have a broken heart from losing Greg to cancer two years and nine days ago.

I’ve not cried for two days. That doesn’t mean that I’m not missing Greg with every fibre of my being. I will always miss him. Millions of memories ensure that.

Apparently the hurt wasn’t showing today as one gentleman told me I looked like I was getting younger. I don’t feel any younger although two days of being alone with my thoughts, memories of Greg and a shot of Maker’s eased the tears away today and yesterday. I could do without tears for a while, even though I know there will be more days of tears to come.

Greg didn’t like to see me cry. I don’t know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it’s a male thing . . . if they can’t fix it, it frustrates them.

For forty-two years I buried pain from all sorts of things, held back tears, substituted anger until one friend told me I was angry all the time for no reason. I told her it was either be angry all the time or be crying all the time. Apparently that burial failed as I have cried more since the first of this year than I have from 14 August 2019 until then. Some days the tears are from sadness and don’t leave lingering pain; other days grief has cut to the bone – I can only hope there aren’t any more of those days in the future.

“The only time I feel the pain is in the sunshine or the rain . . . ” sums up grief. I will always feel the pain of losing Greg. Hiding the pain – sometimes I can; other times pain is so close to the surface that a simple “How are you doing?” brings tears unbidden and sometimes unexpected. 

I will live with the pain, the sadness, the grief. I will continue my life, doing things alone that Greg and I did together, avoiding some places because they were so much “our” places that I can no longer stand to set foot there, do new things, learn new things, but . . . “I tell the truth except when I lie . . .” for the “Alright” I answer to the question “How are you doing?” is not alright . . . it is an avoidance of the truth. 

I am strong enough to be alone. I will survive.