Stop the brag and cry for love

My Son, do not cry for pain, cry for love. Tears were not meant for men! Said my father, struggling to keep tears at bay.  He had got an attack known in medical circles as angina pectoris. A severe pain pierced him right from the heart towards his left arm. Angina pectoris will make any human cry. I was born in a region where tears from the eyes of a boy was almost a taboo. As I grew up to understand gender roles, and man’s chores, I became self-indoctrinated to a false belief that men should not cry. I never liked the regular tears in my sister’s eyes at every adversity of childhood.  I thought that my father coveted I be dissimilar. He carried me away to a faraway town. I spent my childhood with him. In my father’s mind, or so I supposed, a boy-man could go to the forest alone to fetch fire hood- and that I did. In my father’s mind or so I supposed, a boy-man could go to the canteen at night fearing no darkness- and that I did. In my father’s mind or so I supposed, I was meant to become a man before I became a boy-which I tried.

This push created in me a wild at heart craving; I thought that a boy should wrestle other boys if they counter him. Fight them by biceps, and crash them in class. I falsely epitomized my dad and believed that a man was born to fight rather than cry. I fell in love with fighters of then days screens “The British Bull Dog, the Undertaker, Tito Santana” I tired their moves in School and knocked a few boys down. Severally I ploughed the whole 4K club plot with an axe as punishment from the discipline master, for fighting in school.

My birth place was no recipe solution to my dilemma of manhood and tears. In my culture we eulogized rites of passage; I longed to undergo this rite to prove that I was man enough and had no tears on my cornea. I got torn between disowning my culture that abhors tears from a man, and embrace a lifestyle that would allow a man to cry. I went soul searching to unlock my betwixt. I talked to friends. Young and old alike. I talked to my priest friend whom I was sure had seen the Pope at least once. This is when my myopic and parochial condition got treated. I learned than a man can cry when his team loses through penalties, I learned that a man can cry when he sees his bride walk down the aisle to say yes I do. I learned that a man can cry during his wife’s first baby scan at 24 weeks of pregnancy. I learned that a man can cry when his son wins a kite competition. And that’s when I learned about tears of love so close to a man’s eyes.

I still needed one more approval to seal my conversion to a world that allows men to cry.  That approval would be from my dad. I have watched my dad age graciously and I thought I had to ask this before I get too late.  In the words of Han Alexander the blogger, I asked him the other day if I have ever made him cry in my presence, because I don’t recollect ever seeing his tears. He said, “Yes, you made me cry once”. He told me that when I was 3 years old, he laid out a pen, a shilling, and a toy in front of me. He wanted to see which one I would pick. It represents what I would value most when i grow up. Picking the pen meant intelligence, picking the shilling meant money, and the toy meant fun. He said that I sat there and stared at the items. He sat across from me and waited patiently. According to him, I crawled towards them, he held his breath, and I pushed everything aside and went right into his arms. He didn’t realize that he was one of the choices. That was the first, and the only time I made him cry. My dad did not cry due to the pain of angina pectoris but cried in the presence a three years old - me. Tears of love so close to a man’s eyes

From that story I learned the love of a father to a son, and I purposed to love my daughters the more. I long to make a toast during their wedding days and that may make me cry, and those shall be tears of love. Cry when you can, but above all cry for love.