When Tears Are All That Help

"Sorrow makes us all children again."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), American author and poet

Several years ago, when my wife and I were still working, we attended an evening play.  After an enjoyable night out, we left for home in separate cars, since we had met each other at the theater after work.

On the way, I decided to stop at the supermarket for some things we needed, so Lisbeth arrived at our house a little while before I did. I left the market, drove to our sub-division, and about 1/2 block from our driveway a little brown and white ball of fur ran in front of me.

Even though I slammed on the brakes, I was unable to stop, and that sickening thud you hear when you hit an animal came from beneath my car. Though I didn't want to think it, I knew instinctively that I had just run over our little dog, Gabby. I threw the door open and ran back to her. She was dying. She cried to me for a moment, then was quiet. I was stunned.

By this time, Lisbeth, hearing the screeching tires, had run to the end of our drive, seen what had happened, and burst into tears. I left Gabby to hold her, but was of little solace. She had let our puppy out to go to the bathroom and was blaming herself for the incident. I felt equally to blame for not anticipating that Gabby might be outdoors.

I finally got Lisbeth to go back inside, then went to retrieve our dog. Carrying her limp little body to the house was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I was able to hold my tears until I buried her, but then I broke down. Now it was Lisbeth who was trying to console me.

A few days later I thought of an earlier time in my life when I was about 10 years old and lost my mutt bull-dog, Bootsie. I remembered seeking comfort from my Mom and crying in much the same way as I had with Gabby. Maybe it's good that occasionally we become a child again, and react to life's hurts with our heart rather than our head. Grief needs to be dealt with, and tears may be the best way to start.