Name: Corey Vitosh Column Writing

Justifiable Tears
How much longer? My 7 year old mind could not think about anything else while carrying
this 55 pound table with my dad. It felt like an eternity carrying it until BAM! All 55 pounds land
straight on my foot. “Don’t go crying” my dad said, “be strong.” But I’ve seen him cry. No one
told him not to. Why isn't it okay to cry?
8 years later, this question still plagues me as I try to hold it together. My parents are in
the other room debating on whether to tell my brother and I the news. They’re tones are serious
and their voices firm. The tears start to form but I hold them back. I need to be strong.
I remember 2011, when I was 5 years old. I was on the couch with my dad in game 6 of
the finals. One more win and the Mavericks will be world champions. With the lead, the
Mavericks let the clock hit 0 and my dad let his tears go. Why is he crying? Shouldn’t he be
happy?
Then I remember 2012, just one year after this we went to Grandpa’s funeral. I didn’t
understand what it meant then. I was in my dad’s arms as we looked into the casket. This time it
wasn’t just my dad, it was everyone around me. When I asked why he just said the tears were
justified.
Every year after the funeral we would visit the cemetery. Every visit my dad would start
crying. As I got older the realization set in that he isn’t coming back. I now understand what my
dad meant on the day of the funeral. It’s okay to cry, but not for the little insignificant things.
Things like a cut or bruised toe will go away, but some things can never be forgotten.
While world champions aren’t forgotten, my dad doesn’t cry every time he sees the
Mavericks. He cries every time he misses his dad. So are my tears justified?
I don’t have time to answer my own question. My parents are about to tell me and my
brother. I prepare to hold back the tears as my parents sit down. They’re faces are pointed
towards the ground. They are stalling but it doesn’t matter. I overheard them last night. My
grandma has cancer.