Guest Blog: The Unexpected Public Cry

My wife can be pretty stoic.
She holds a lot inside, until the dam breaks. This is her first piece of writing about cancer that she has felt comfortable allowing me to share with you. I’m incredibly proud of her. Please share with your caregivers if her words resonate with you. ❤️

- Trevor

The Unexpected Public Cry

By Sarah Maxwell

Ugh, the unexpected public cry got me again this morning. Let’s face it. Cancer makes you cry. And for the most part I’m okay with letting it flow at home. It’s inevitable and often cathartic.

But weeping in public is harder. It can happen when you least expect it. There was the time at the dentist’s office, not long after my husband was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. I’ve been going to the same dentist since I was 8 years old. He came into the room, looked at me with tears in eyes and asked how I was doing. The floodgates opened.

Another time I bawled in the aisle at the grocery store as Trevor took a scan result call. I just stood there frozen amongst the cans of soup and bouillon cubes and thought, ‘Is this really our lives?’

Today’s session came right in the middle of spin class. I was just pedaling along in the back row, not even thinking about cancer. I looked up and saw four of my friends side by side - two couples that our families spend a lot of time with. I couldn’t help but imagine my life without Trevor. Suffice it to say, the puddle under my bike at the end of class was not just sweat.

The thing about the public cry is not even so much how I’m feeling, or about being embarrassed. It’s more about the other people. I watch as their eyes shift down and they search for the right thing to say. I feel so bad about making them feel uncomfortable.

I guess this must be part of my journey - learning not to worry so much about how my feelings are impacting everyone else. I’ve got to get better at letting people see the grief. I often find myself trying to dry my eyes before the girls see me. I worry they will feel added pain and be burdened by my sadness. I fear that my fear will make them even more fearful.

But what kind of example am I setting if I mask my real emotions? I want them to feel safe letting it out and voicing their feelings. I’m always telling them it’s okay to cry. I guess I need to do it too.

So, to the dentist, the grocery store shoppers, the folks in the spin class, and to my girls. I’m sorry if my tears make you uncomfortable. Sometimes there’s just no holding them back. And frankly maybe I shouldn’t be trying to.