loyd.net

You taught me not to cry;
You taught me to hide my feelings;
You showed me how, when angered
      to speak calmly, quietly
—you scared the daylights out of us when you did that.
I never picked up that technique
I shout and argue,
But with a cold precision,
Not blathering, like mother.
You showed me how, when afraid
To pretend you're not,
Or to fear nothing, because you long to die.
You showed me how to deal with pain by avoidance,
To forget, to not speak of the past,
Not to risk too much, lest you be hurt again.
You showed me how to care
By providing things, needs,
But never speaking—
Love by action, but never in words.
You taught me not to cry,
But when I did
(Usually because I was sorry for what I had done),
You'd shout, “I'll give you a reason to cry.”
I'd swallow my tears,
And you never carried out your threat
(You always left mom to punish me, anyway).

You taught me how to cry.
Whenever I hear a song, a story,
Anything that reminds me of you
(So many things do,
Even the sentimental dreck that I despise)
My eyes fill with tears
And I remember you.
I remember losing you.
I remember at the end how strong you were,
You faced your greatest fear without avoidance.
You finally learned to say the words—
You even seemed to believe me
When I told you.
At the end it was harder for me, I think,
Yet I held your hand
And wept
And said, “I love you.”

You taught me how to cry
Yet I still feel a bit ashamed.
I cry, remembering you,
And try to stop my tears, remembering you.
So, whether I cry or not
I always remember you.

Dying Breath Portraits Dividing Wall