By Doug Forbes

There isn’t but a speck of evidence that tears help us. Actually, research has shown that tears might just do the opposite. But the fact there isn’t much tear research at all seems incongruous, considering the volume of tears shed by even one grieving parent who suffers the death of a beloved child. Or another who welcomes a baby girl into this great big world.

I now cry during every hour, multiple times. I cry when I step into the tub where Roxie took baths. I cry when I reach for a bag of cheddar goldfish that Roxie called “fishy crackers” or raisins that were somehow “cranburgers.” I cry when I look in my rear view mirror and don’t see her sitting in her car seat smiling back at me or sleeping soundly. And I cry when I brush my teeth, because we used to brush together and finish by scrubbing those stinker germs off of our “lizard tongues.”

I can’t tell you how much I have cried trying to put this website together. For every hour I work, there are two more that I just sit staring at her photos, crying until my face aches.

For eons, tears have graced song lyrics, photographs, artwork, public speeches, private challenges. They signify pain and pleasure, trials and triumphs. Tears are welcomed by some. And suffocated by others. Tears are a universal language.

It hurt me to the core when Roxie cried in pain from a biopsy or a bad blood draw or a devastating blow. It hurt me even more, however, when she cried because she struggled to express herself the way she desired. She was so hard on herself.

When tears flowed from punishment, it was less burdensome to bear. That’s because we would always tell her that, no matter how angry we might become due to bad behavior, she had to remember how much we loved her beyond that particular moment in time.

Love is painful. Love bears tears on both sides of the emotional divide. And I’m on the side you don’t want to be on.

My tear ducts are very, very tired. And so am I. The pigment around my eyes has steadily darkened since the day I heard the words “there’s been a terrible accident.” I don’t look well. And I don’t feel well. This is the new normal. The one I did not choose.

The one I cannot stop crying over.