Wow

These are amazing. Men crying. I love men crying. Those little moments of real emotion. I miss a man to cry with, not just to, but with. A man to hold onto as the sobs rack our bodies. Maybe Adam ruined me for life. I have still the clearest memory or our first meeting. Really meeting - the moment the inner me met the inner him. It is a story that I never tire of telling and moments as clear to me as my last breath. & so if we have never held that conversation I'll share it with you now. I'd found out earlier that Johnny had died & the circumstances surrounding his death which I'll save for another day. And I had just gotten the call from my parents that my grandmother had died. I was walking back, I was at camp, I was at counselor training in point of fact. I was just beginning to breathe as I realized that I would no longer be sitting up nights listening to the sound of her oxygen machine - no longer falling to sleep wondering if I would wake up in the morning for school or if I would wake up to the very Stephen King moment of my grandmother's corpse in her bed. I was 14. The oldest, geographically closest grandchild. The tears came, running in streams down my face as I walked to the cabin for the end of night meeting. I hadn't even begun to think of what would happen when I got there. I didn't know where my friends were & didn't have a clear sense that I should be running to them - all I could really do was put another foot forward and keep walking. I know I was walking slowly - there is a sense that others were moving past me. Then there was a hand on my shoulder. I'm savant about touch. You know this. I didn't know the touch on my shoulder but it was like sliding into the ocean for the first time - so familiar but alien, the rhythm of the heartbeat, the tides running through you. Years later we joked that perhaps the heightened emotion imprinted him on me - but that didn't explain the effects I had on him. I turned around & buried my face in his shoulder. I didn't even see who it was. I soaked his shoulder with my tears. He wrapped his arms around me holding me tightly. Swaying gently, 2 bodies finding a rhythm not sex, just that random energy passing between 2 people touching. This was the moment we met as I finally pulled back & our eyes met. Mine - I've been told were glowing green from the red & the lights & the crying. His blue, dark & deep with the slightest tears filling them. He had no idea why I was crying. He knew I was hurting before he touched me (by his account not my projection). That was the moment we became friends. Arguments can be made that that was the moment we fell in love, but I put that at a later date. It was the moment we truly met, our first moment of namaste. Somehow years later as we fought, those few bitter arguments over eachothers' own good - we were still in that place between us. It was a connection only death finally broke, dissipated, changed: everything changes & nothing is truly lost.