There is a sacredness in tears

I need to laugh,

and I need to cry...

 

We speak often of the anticipatory grief mom experienced on her pancreatic cancer journey.  This peculiar form of torture is not reserved for the cancer warrior alone.  We all dealt with her impending loss in a myriad of ways...

 

There were the 'ostrich head in the sand' moments... pure denial of all that was happening.

 

And 'cry me a river' nights...where grief tore us raw and wounded.

 

And even 'robotic going-thru-the-motions' times... when the bleakness of this cancer journey simply numbed us to the core, leaving an emptiness that tears couldn't begin to fill up.

 

Cancer is serious business.  So true.   No two journeys are the same, but all deal with a future of uncertainty and an unknown destiny.  This uncertainty is agonizing to the nth degree... piled on top of painful treatments, nauseating chemos and excruciating surgeries, there comes a time when tears are the only language.

 

Every cancer warrior needs the permission to cry... Give it freely.

 

It was the hardest thing in the world to see mom's grief... even harder yet to watch my dad grieve her loss.  But being there, crying with them was a Mercy to hearts sore.

 

And it's so ok if this isn't your journey, nor your calling... mom didn't cry often, nor with many.  But if you are in the thick of this cancer nightmare with a loved one, don't be afraid of these moments...

 

It is love with feet, and hands and a shoulder... and Kleenex... lots of Kleenex. 

 

"There is a sacredness in tears.

They are not the mark of weakness,

but of power.

They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.

They are the messengers of overwhelming grief,

of deep contrition

and of unspeakable love."

                 ~  Washington Irving

 

 

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