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You are reading a collaboration essay brought to you through Carer Mentor by
. This post is from the tag ‘Letters from a Writer’.When was the last time you cried?
Come, sit with me.
This part tends to get flooded frequently. You see, It has always rained plenty in these lands, but only recently have the rivers found themselves unable to hold any more water. I’m sure the forest will find itself nestling a marsh soon.
So yes, I was asking, when was the last time you cried?
You need to know, we are on unstable territory here, you and I, so we better hurry, there’s usually not much time.
I’ve got a story to tell you.
Once upon a time, I forgot how to cry.
This very forest we sit in now shrivelled up when it happened. A sparkle of fireflies would troop down the marred jags of empty river beds to comfort the trees, in an earnest need to mimic the color that painted the lands with compassion.
It had happened in such a flurry, here I was, my two feet steady and the next off to the airport we went in the name of a wedding. I admit there were hints, small quakes which wracked the lands in the most odd moments, like when I heard my mom talk to a family friend, asking if she’d like some of our pots and pans. The apartment partook in a slow hollowing, first they gave away the couches, and then the dining, curtains and cutlery soon followed — so that towards the very end, my books too were gone. Sure it was odd. But moving is always done best when things are scarce, and what is one apartment for another?
This must be that, the trees nodded, and they tightened their roots into the soil.
Forgive me.
Are you comfortable? It can get humid, but worry not, the next breeze isn’t too far. Any second now it’ll echo through. This is, after all, where the tremors within me rise from. The lands quake, and the wind rages, and the rain storms down graciously. But for now, it is pleasantly calm before any of that intense turmoil.
So back to the story, yes.
We took three planes, in the duration of three days, and my feet felt violently uprooted when 3 sufficient months had passed since the wedding. The trees rustled under a commotion, and the rivers stretched thin in waiting. When the denial ebbed, comprehension surfaced with a storm. Winds, the roar of which rose to a deafness that stilled everything to a halt, ravaged my being.
The betrayal within the moment felt so intense, that me, a lush forest with plentiful rain — turned dry into barren lands. No tears spilled in the hours it took for the forest to adjust to this new permanent.
But what of home? Asked the roots, incensed by the soil around them.
We’re unsure, shuffled the leaves, solemn and remorseful as they shed one by one.
One of those sure vivid thoughts rose up in earnest; There is no room for crying anymore, this is forever.
And that was that. The rivers in waiting were left in waiting. Their banks sinking lower and lower.
This isn’t right, the clouds whispered to one another, we’re essential!
And yet with evident dismay the roots, barks, and river beds bid them farewell, just as they had the leaves.
Come, take my hand, we’ve been here too long. The wind has picked up faster than I expected, the leaves are trembling, the rivers are sloshing over, we must find shelter. The fog is rising. Over there around those oaks, the roots will be our cavern. Come now, be quick, let’s get comfortable here.
In these lands, grief is a lingering fog. In the thick of it, it clings onto your every pore, curls into your airways and diffuses into your blood. It is one of the vital organs of the forest, and we’ve been remembering.
The story twinkles with humour now, but the sentiments remain.
Lean against the roots dear friend, the forest will be awash with rain soon, and it is a beautiful sight.
From then on I forgot how to cry, and it was not until four years earlier that the drought finally caved. Look between the roots, somewhere near the damp soil, balled up and hidden, you’ll find a note.
Dear (me),
The wind is all you feel and thunder is all you hear, it’s alright though. Let the wind carry you, and as you grow accustomed, we’ll find our footing — ready?
You land in the middle of what I can only imagine to be a busy hospital entrance. It’s summer. It’s morning. It’s May 25th, 2021. The weather forecast tells us it was either 40 or 80 F — depending on where in England he was, I cannot say — because I do not know.
But you? Oh you’ve imagined this place for months before today, you have been thinking of it in the middle of the night whilst entertaining someone else for his sake. I am bitter, if that’s what you’re wondering. I am angry. I cannot, like you, imagine him safe within this building you stand Infront of. Regardless, you walk inside, you walk and see a rush - wait, stop, you only want there to have been a rush; it was quiet. You see him in the room alone, you see him on his phone - a thing that is falling apart.
You only hear static. You walk towards him and you grab his hand, and we’re shaken into the beginning after the end……
Written 2023
It’s raining.
You’ll feel a drop on your forehead and then on the back of your hand, and just now, look up. It’s starting out. A pitter patter is hitting the old oaks and the clouds are still fluffy and white. If you see out further in the horizon from the crack on top, you’ll see the gray rolling in.
It’s getting steadier now, the angle slanting. For a while it goes on like that and then the drops of rain are too fat. A new, stronger breeze sweeps in and it slants again. You can no longer feel the direction of the wind, or the rain falling from every direction.
The forest experiences this often, sometimes too often. But there’s a catch.
Rain, Drought, Whereabout?
I have had reservations, and emotional clarity, and.. I wonder, what imprint did it leave?
Here are some testimonials from friends about who they think I am, in relation to crying. Only one of them has seen me cry, most have never heard of an instance where I have.
They stand in these lands, do they see it? What does that mean?
I think you cry like it's some kind of horrible deed. Like you can't let anyone know, not even your mom. I think that you cry when everyone is asleep and not a single sound can be heard and even then you stifle it
Um bakhtawar i donno what ur tryin to do but i cant imagine u crying … but i guess when u cry the sky would cry too and the entire world would be needing a tissue
I think you'd acknowledge that it's important to cry but you'd be mortified if you did it in-front of people, you'd want to maintain a calm demeanour in-front of people, but alone you'd want to let your emotions loose
like you’re not even crying really it’s just flowing and you don’t sniff and it just happens and you just take a tissue and clean yourself up and move on
it would just be something you need to do like a chore to relieve yourself if these emotions
I think when u cry, you cry, you don't downplay it. You don't do it in front of everybody of course but that's because it's a private moment, I don't think you try to choke yourself out of it, although that may be the case sometimes. I think you cry and you make something of it
Id wonder what would have happened because you don't cry often, and id wonder how i could offer you comfort
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The Caring About Crying Anthology. We All Cry. You’re Not Alone.
Sept 1 Launch article: Caring About Crying. We All Cry. You’re Not Alone By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 2 & 14 Crying: 'Did you know?' Resource: Tears the science and some art. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 3 'Cry, Baby. Why Our Tears Matter' A Podcast Interview. Dan Harris and Dr Bianca Harris of Ten Percent Happier with Reverend Benjamin Perry. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 4 ‘In Conversation with Rev. Benjamin Perry’. Victoria interviews the Author of 'Cry Baby: Why Our Tears Matter' By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 5 ‘My stoic mom's parting gift: Making peace with tears’ By Sarah Coomber at Sandwich Season
Sept 6 We Invite You to 'Care About Crying'. By Victoria on behalf of the team.
Sept 6 ‘ICU Special Edition: There's Crying in Baseball?’ By Nurse Kristin at HCT:Heal Cure Treat
Sept 7 Triggered. Caring About Crying Anthology By Kristina Adams Waldorf, MD at After He Said Cancer and Anne at The Future Widow
Sept 8 'Can't Cry. Want to Cry??' A Caregiver's Paradox of Human-ing. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sep 9 ‘AWC Town Bulletin - On Crying’ By Tiffany Chu and Bakhtawar at Asian Writers Collective
Sep 10 The Healing Power of Tears By Louisa Wah at Lily Pond
Sept 11 My Tears are not a Grief Gauge by Anna De La Cruz at Gen Xandwich
Sept 13 Sweet Relief After He Said Cancer | A Memoir by Kristina Adams Waldorf, MD at After He Said Cancer
Sept 15 When was the last time you cried in public? Moving from private grief to community healing by Mariah Friend at Heartbeats
Sept 16 Crying While Parenting: A Mindful Approach by Amber Groomes,Ph.D. at Dr. Amber_Writes.
Sept 17 Cry, Baby, Cry By Louisa Wah at Lily Pond
Sept 18 Why we stop crying by Rachel Ooi at Conscious Living
Sept 19 Carer Mentor Collaboration: my cup overfloweth with my tears By Christa Lei (They/Them) at Is This What You Want?
Up Next, we are awaiting
on the 22nd!
Simply wow! You are quite the beautiful story teller. I have been looking forward to your piece because you’re one of the few writers in the collaboration I’ve exchanged messages with. I already knew what a kind and beautiful soul you are, yet this exceeded whatever high expectations I had in mind. ❤️
Thank you Bakhtawar, you make me ponder and reflect and think. Stories and states, and perspectives. How others interpret us often misses the mark, individually but each person sees a piece, an element of what's there. Rain or monsoon? Dry pause or Drought. Your piece has made me ponder and take away my own interpretation and translation. There's no single interpretation, no single right way to cry. I hope writing this has enabled an outpouring that makes sense for you. Pondering.