Uncomfortably Numb

Prior to the last month or so, I can recall seeing my father cry only one time - when his father died more than twenty years ago. He probably cried at my grandmother's funeral as well, but I was too young to remember.

My dad has always been the stoic one - not cold or unfeeling by any means, just the type who never lets on when something's on his mind. He's just always held things together and marched on. I think there's something admirable in that, but I also realize how difficult it must be.

I, on the other hand, have always been the passionate, wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve type of guy. Anyone can tell exactly how I feel just through my words or facial expressions. I get tears of sadness, tears of joy, and tears of rage.

Not my dad.

Which is why it was so hard to see him cry at the kitchen table last night. I don't "do" helpless very well. I never have, but it's what I felt. My mother's death devastated him, even if its only surface evidence is tears at the kitchen table. It was devastating for him, it is devastating for him, it will likely always be devastating for him. I don't expect him to "march on" through this. Hell, I don't want him to "march on" through this. I'll just have to do what I can to help ease him along.

Through all this, I've somehow become the stoic one - the one holding it all inside while others crack and crumble. As I suspected, it's not easy. It's not comfortable. It's not... me.

Or so I thought.

A couple days after the funeral, I was talking to Jami (Best Friend Ever™) and saying how it felt odd not to cry then when I had people sobbing all around me. She said that she asked Chris how he thought I was coping and he said something to the effect of "Just what I would expect from Brandon - he's holding things together."

I guess I'm more like my father than I realized.