It's Okay to Cry Sometimes

Throughout my adolescent years, teen years and young adult years I always relied on my Papaw to be the sense of reason, if there was one person that could always get through to me, it was him. He just had this way about him, this comforting, calming way that got straight through to me. I know you may find this hard to believe but I tend to be a little dramatic (HaHa); I can’t help it – I come from a long line of independent,stubborn and dramatic women, we own it. When I was having a hard time with school, a friend, a boy or just anything in life, that I thought was actually a problem at the time, I would always go to Papaw – we would sit in the living room or on the front porch in his favorite rocking chair and just be. Sometimes we would talk, sometimes we would shout out absurd answers to Jeopardy, sometimes he would talk on the phone and I would just listen, some days we wouldn’t say anything at all. Regardless of how we spent our time together, I cannot remember a time that I walked away not feeling completely better about my current predicament or confident in a decision I had to make. 

I was in Tampa, Florida for work when COVID19 first started making major news headlines. Confession, I don’t watch the news much, I just don’t like it. I read online news sometimes, and I try to stay up to date on any healthcare related items,sometimes trashy gossip items related to my favorite Hollywood types and sports related articles but other than that I kind of avoid it. The news depresses me and politics infuriate me so I avoid, avoid, avoid. Spending the week with my colleagues and after various texts from family members I finally bit the bullet and typed the deadly virus into the search engine. Initially I was concerned but not panicked. I wash my hands,I sneeze into my arm,I practice good hygiene this is nothing more than the super-size flu. 

Being one of those individuals blessed with a racing brain that never stops my “spidey” senses would kick in every time I heard the word “Corona” uttered.  My concern rose to a new level as I sat in the Atlanta Airport, waiting to board a plane home, watching our Vice President explain the number of lives that had been lost in Washington State. Immediately I became more conscious of what I touched, how close I got to people – The VP had just said, “stay away from crowded, confined spaces” and here I was getting ready to board a full flight where I was certain at least one out of every five people were coughing. Cue first breakdown.

The bricks just kept tumbling from there. I returned home and a different world emerged slowly before my eyes. Hospitals were no longer allowing us to conduct meetings onsite, emails were flying through my Outlook in multiples regarding this virus. I was meeting with Andy every day at 9AM and 4PM. People in my own state were getting sick and the President was on every day at noon. Schools were closed, spring sports cancelled, dining in isn’t an option, businesses are closed and social distancing is our new norm. All of that is not what I am struggling with the most, what I am struggling with is this – for how long?  No one knows and that is scary. I was optimistic at first, a month or two and we will be right back to it. But as the days go on and I watch our world continue to break, I watch lives continue to end,social distancing guidelines continue to escalate and I find it hard to find some type of positive but I kept plugging along. Putting on a brave face for my daughter, trying to ease her fears and worries while not letting her see straight through me and realize that I,too have those same fears and worries now. I am mom, I am supposed to make everything better, I am supposed to fix everything and this feels all too much like the first time a boy broke her heart and all I could do was comfort her and try to distract her. 

What brought me to my knees this week? A single text. One sentence from my daughter that she sent as soon concluded a “Zoom Class” with an English teacher that she loves to pieces. That text – “mamma I just want to go back to school.” Nine simple words took the breath straight out of me because I knew that it did not matter how I responded, I couldn’t ease her worry. I threw some bullcrap motivational sentence back at her trying to point out that this too shall pass, but I knew it wasn't enough. Hours later I still felt like I handled the situation completely dreadful.  I kept trying to channel my “Inner Papaw”, I was trying to think back to some of the things he would say to me back when he was still here on this Earth to calm me. What would he think of the world today? What would he say? I found myself wishing that he was here, I was home sitting on the front porch with him, he would throw out some of his words of wisdom and both Alex and I would walk away feeling so much better.  I went to sleep with him on my mind and found my sleep to be a little more peaceful that night but still left without the right words.

I love my Granny, there is not a part of my childhood that doesn't involve her. Papaw calmed, Granny cared. I don't talk to her as often as I should, we exchange texts, I send her pictures of Alex and she is a big emoji fan but I wanted to hear her voice. The next morning we weren’t one minute into the conversation and I knew immediately what the words were.  As my grandmother and I caught up on the news and life her voice brought me so much comfort and peace as I told her about Alex’s text she told me “you tell Alex that she will be fine, that she is a strong little girl and I know that because she has a strong mommy.” I had always had the words, Papaw just had pointed me in the direction to them, he pointed me to the backbone of my childhood. 

Once our conversation ended I was immediately taken back in time fifteen years when it was my Granny that comforted and calmed me during what was one of the hardest times of my life. I was eight months pregnant and laying in a bed at Central Baptist Hospital. Due to my condition I had been hospitalized and placed on bed rest two weeks before Thanksgiving. All I could do all day long was read, watch TV and worry. Being alone in a hospital, left to only your own thoughts is one of the scariest things. I couldn’t wait to meet the baby girl I had been growing and I was scared to death thinking that would never happen or that I had done something wrong and “messed” her up already somehow. I would have visitors sporadically but I was two hours from my family and my friends and family that were in town had kids and jobs so I understood that they couldn’t be there all the time.  At night, when I would lay there all alone, I would just cry – and yes, I am sure the pregnancy hormones had something to do with it too, but I would cry because so much was unknown and this situation wasn’t something I could control. I wasn’t allowed to just get up and walk down the hall or even out to get fresh air. I felt helpless and that I had already failed my first task as a Mom. 

I was so excited to see my Granny show up around 5 one evening. I had no idea she was coming, I hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks and words can’t describe the sense of peace and comfort that came over me that day when I heard the click of that hospital door and her face appeared. Of course she came bearing all the goodies she had been known for my whole life – her famous homemade fudge, chex mix and her smile. We sat,ate,laughed and watched TV all evening (Judge Judy and Law n Order were her favorites back then). My Grandmother slept that night on a fold out chair beside my hospital bed  to comfort me, to be strong for me and for the first time I felt like maybe I could get through this,I just needed the strength she was lending me. The next morning, when I knew she had to go I tried with all of my might to hold back the tears and keep my brave face in place.  I watched her pack her bag up, sit the candy and snack mix within my reach, hug my neck, kiss my forehead and tell me she loved me before she started toward the door. Almost to the door she turned around, wiped a tear from her face and said “Misty, it is okay to cry sometimes, Granny cries sometimes too.” And with that she was gone. 

Yesterday as I sat on my porch, reliving that memory, I realized that I have had the right words all along, I just needed reminded what they were. Although my situation back then and what’s going on in our world today aren’t identical they’re similar. Today I have a feeling of helplessness, a fear of the unknown just like I did that November day back in 2004, but today I carry that fear for a miniature version of myself too. It's my turn to be strong for my daughter and pass some of my strength to her the same as my Granny did to me that day. So each day as her anxiety grows and I try to be brave I will tell her that if she does feel like she needs to cry of if I feel like I need to cry – that’s what we will do.  We will cry for the lives lost, those on the front lines, our leaders, our world, our families, our friends, our fears and the unknown because it is okay to cry sometimes, even Granny does it and she is the strongest person I’ve ever known.