Will we cry?

All too often, as I find myself alone with my own thoughts, I come to the poignant realization that I tend to cry at all the wrong things, yet I struggle to shed tears at what society deems as the "right" moments. Now, I understand that this may sound somewhat peculiar, perhaps even contradictory, but I implore you to allow me a moment to elaborate on my feelings. When we discuss the appropriate occasions for a man to express his emotions through tears, we often refer to somber events such as a funeral, the thrill of a nail-biting football match, or those significant life milestones that are universally acknowledged as deserving of our emotional responses. These are the moments when it is socially acceptable, even expected, for a man to display vulnerability and allow his emotions to surface. On the contrary, there are moments that society might label as the "wrong" things for a man to cry about—instances that might seem trivial or even frivolous in comparison. For example, watching a heart-wrenching movie that pulls at the strings of one’s heart, losing oneself in the excitement and drama of a sporting event, or perhaps even the lightheartedness of a harmless prank played on our wives. These are the moments that often elicit tears from me, leaving me to ponder the deeper implications of my emotional responses.

As I reflect on this, I find myself grappling with a haunting question: when the time comes for my parents' funeral, will I be able to cry? More specifically, I often find my thoughts drifting towards my father. It’s a heavy burden to carry, contemplating the emotional weight that would accompany such a profound loss. Will my tears flow immediately, as the gravity of the moment washes over me, or will it take time for the reality of his absence to truly sink in? I question whether my grief will manifest in an immediate wave of sorrow, or if it will linger just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free. The thought of my father's funeral evokes a complex tapestry of emotions—fear, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of loss. I wonder how I will navigate the sea of grief that is sure to envelop me during that time. Will I find solace in the memories we shared, allowing those recollections to fuel my tears, or will I struggle to confront the reality of a world without him? These contemplations weigh heavily on my heart, as I grapple with the societal expectations of masculinity and the deeply personal nature of grief. It is a delicate balance, one that leaves me questioning the authenticity of my emotional responses and the societal norms that dictate how we express our sorrow.