Sunday, 4 May 2025

The Sunday Reflection #51 - Moved to tears - Men and crying

 I had a little moment this morning. I wasn't expecting it. As we are celebrating my sister in laws Birthday, I went to the 8.30am mass at The Sacred Heart. I am not a particularly 'religious' person, in that I don't really enjoy much of the ceremonial aspect of mass, but there are plenty of things I do get out of it. Perhaps one of the most important, is we get told when people are poorly or have passed away in the local community. This morning, nursing a hangover after seeing the Pogues at Brixton last night, their first post Shane London gig, with guest vocalists. It was wonderful, but I digress. 

When it got to the point where the list of parishioners who have recently passed came, the first name on the list was the mother of my best friend from St Vincents. We both went through St Vincents together and also through FCHS, but we lost touch after that. Last year, his Father passed away. I attended the funeral and we met for the first time in 47 years. I paid my respects. I also said hello to his Mum. She was very with it and seemed in good fettle for a lady who I think was in her 90's. I was quite cheered that she looked so good. Perhaps the last time I'd seen her, she was younger than I am now. She had been a friend of my Mum when we were at school. They had both been on the St Vincents PTA. My Mum not only liked her, but rated her as a very capable lady. In summer holidays, etc, I'd go to their house on Bittacy Rise and we'd sneak out and play on the abandoned railway at the back of his house. His Mum was always nice to us and made an effort to ensure we had a nice time at her home. 

When her name was read out, my mind went back to my own Mum, who passed in 2008. I also thought of all of my other mates. I think only a couple of my friends from school still have their mums around. One of my mates Mums is suffering from the effects of age. He has moved in with her, to make sure she is OK. When we were kids, we never thought that one day, it would be us who had to look after our Mums. My mum was totally independent until the last seven years of her life, when she had a stroke and became dependent on us. Any conversation with any mate who still has parents, regarding their Mums and Dads has become a discussion of issues and problems associated with age. We all love our parents, and much as I wish mine were still here, for those that still have them, it is not always easy. 

The priest saying the mass this morning, was Fr John, who is a member of the HCPT group I went to Lourdes in France with last year. One of our group was the mum of another good friend. She passed away in March and Fr John will be saying a mass for her at the Sacred Heart later in the month. 

For a few seconds, I was completely overwhelmed and a tear formed in my eye. Life at times seems very cruel and sad. You can either see your parents before their time, like my Dad and spend your life regretting the times that the grim reaper has stolen from you, or like my Mum, you can live to the point where you no longer enjoy life and are just waiting and hoping the reaper will come. Then I pulled myself together. I felt my Dad's voice saying "Get your act together Rog, you are a grown man, it is unseemly to burst into tears in mass". I was brought up to believe men don't cry. My Dad was as tough a they come. But I did see him cry. Once. When I asked him if Mum was going to die from cancer in 1970. I was shocked. Dad didn't cry. At the time I was horrified. I actually was angry at him. I felt he was not the man I thought he was. In truth, and it is a horrible thing to say, I lost respect for him as I felt he'd let me down by showing emotions. It was only when I was an adult, that I matured enough to realise that he was no less of a man for those tears. In fact, he was showing me his unconditional love for my Mum and his total despair at the situation. 

There is a lot of talk about what real masculinity is. My eight year old self though that real men were sort of John Wayne movie character types, neo-psychopaths, who had no conscience or emotions. I now have come to realise that a real man is a man who fulfils his responsibilities as best her can, and if he fails, there is no shame, so long as he tried his best. 

Have a great Sunday. I miss this fella!



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