I titled this post "True Confession" because to anyone who knows me, this will come as a shock: I cry too easily and too much. I have a tough as nails veneer, as anyone who has ever known me at work would attest; one does not survive 18 or 19 years in 4 middle schools if she were a namby-pamby. But.....I am too sensitive. I sometimes have to give up reading the news for awhile to recover. This past week has been a week of sadness, both personal and not-so-personal. The common denominator was that each event left my face tear-streaked.
Last Sunday I learned my ex has prostate cancer, and while I was talking to my son, giving him unsolicited advice about how to deal with his father (He is living with him.), tears were streaming down my face as my voice crackled. He has to make peace with his dad because he doesn't know how long his father has--whether he will be ok or not. Mid-week I learned a virtually destitute cousin had died from a second brain tumor, and I don't know whether she died alone in the Charleston hospital. Then, yesterday country singer Joey Feek died from cervical cancer at just 40 years old, leaving her two year-old daughter. I had never even heard of her prior to a few months ago, but I kept up with her husband's blog chronicling her illness. Last night as I turned off the light, I was bawling like a baby after viewing one of her Youtube videos, "When I'm Gone." She was a believer, so she was happy to go home to heaven; yet, my sadness is for her family. Finally, when I woke this morning, my friend Angela had sent me a message last night that Pat Conroy, South Carolina's most famous author and resident of my town, had lost a month-long battle with pancreatic cancer, the cancer with the automatic death sentence. I didn't know the man; yes, I met him eleven months ago at a book signing, but I didn't know him. So, why was I crying?? Was it for the best-selling novels he still had in him? Was it for the state and Lowcountry's loss? I don't know, but I cried.
I also cry when I pray; that is really stupid, but I do. Perhaps that is why I don't pray in the traditional manner very often. I prefer to just talk to God when I am driving to work or piddling in the kitchen. Those are not raw; those I can handle.
This is an area I need to work on, and it may take time.