I have been to several funerals and I have shed my share of tears, just to keep up with appearances. Â There was a bit of truth in my sorrow, but there was always this pressure to visibly show how I felt. So I have always questioned myself about my lack of sincerety.
When my Dad passed away, I made up my mind to be completely sincere in my affection for him. There were moments when I was almost ready to burst, but I held back; for all the crocodile tears that I had shed, there had to be some sense of justice. And so it was, Â to this day I Â haven’t shed a single drop of tear for my father.
My heart feels hardened and I don’t feel like there is any good left in me. I heard some where that we are the heroes in our own lives, that each of us can justify the actions of our past no matter how troubling or horrible it maybe. We are the product of our thoughts.  I have lived my life trying to fulfill a lie, lies that I project to the wayfarers.
These days it feels more easier to exhibit myself, to reveal the ugliness of my double standards, dishonesty and wayward life. You see fake people have an image to maintain, but real people just don’t care. Sincerity and truth is basis for every virtue. So  even though I am not perfect, I’d rather be known for my weaknesses and failures, because I will have received my condemnation and judgement while I’m still alive.
on a lighter side, I have a sincere story or two that may make you smile
I remember once, when my dad gave me money to pay the electricity bill, but instead I bought a lottery ticket for a brand new car. When I got home, I explained to my Dad what I did and he beat the crap out of me. The next day, when my dad woke up and opened the door, outside my house was a brand new car. We all cried especially me, because the car was from the electricity company, they were there to cut off the electricity, my dad beat the crap out of me again !!! 😦
I hate it when you offer someone a sincere complement on their  mustache  and suddenly she’s not your friend any more.
– Anonymous
Life Less Ordinary 
I cried when my mother went into the hospital. I cried when the doctors said they could do nothing more than to make her last hours comfortable. I cried when my father called from the hospital and handed the telephone to my mother for one last conversation with me. The next morning, when I received word that she had died, I had no tears left. I went home, attended the funeral and the burial, spent time with my father and other family and friends, and never shed a single tear for her. I don’t know what that means. J.
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me neither… sometimes I wonder if I ever loved him. It makes me sick
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I prefer to think that it shows our confidence in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. While she was still struggling in this world, I wept. When she left the body and entered Paradise to await the resurrection, I no longer needed to weep. J.
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ha… that’s a great way to look at it. 🙂
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Maybe you should ask god to reveal why are bitter..ask for grace to forgive your dad for all that he couldn’t be to you. Write a letter to him and say I forgive you Dad. Focus on the kind things he did for you, perhaps he couldn’t express his love to you….
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Hello…parents dying seems to be an interesting thing to wrestle with for some. For me, it brought another layer to my experience and understanding of others, although I rarely speak of it to those closest to me. Maybe I will write a post on it one if these days. Stay tuned 🙂
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sure will do 🙂
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