Man Tears

My sister is probably the only person in this world who comes closest to knowing the real me. In spite of the exceptional relationships I have with other family members as well as friends, there are parts of me they still haven't seen. My sister has, warts and all, and she still loves me for who I really am.

Which is why the last few days have been most miserable.

She and I had a fight, not a trite bickering or a silly argument but a real one where spittle flew and hurtful words were said. It was particularly terrible. And it was made even more painful by the fact that I didn't really want to be angry at her in the first place. I was just trying to protect her from herself after she and her husband had a fight themselves. I guess fiery tempers run in the family.

I would never dream of getting myself involved in any argument that my sister may have with her husband. After all, it's their business. But when she starts disappearing in haste, driving away angrily, without a single explanation as to where she might be going, I deeply worry. So when this exact thing happened again last weekend, instead of standing by the sidelines, I finally spoke up. It wasn't well received.

I was told to mind my own business. That it didn't concern me at all. That not everything was about me. That I should just fuck off.

We waged a silent war for almost a week. Neither acknowledged the other, let alone spoke. It hurt not to be able to talk to her or even look at her, but every time I tried, it just made me angry. As well as tempers, pride runs high.

In the end, my mum intervened and got the two of us in the same room. For a while, we didn't speak; just sat there in silence. Then she whispered something that made her burst into tears.

"Sorry."

I guess things have been hard for her, too. Of course they have! Why wouldn't it be? Anger has made me stupid and blind. She's been as miserable as I have been. And the thought that I made her feel that way, made me depressed. That's when the man tears came. Thick and fast, all that pent up anger disappeared and in its place came sadness and exhaustion. I cried so forcefully, it became hard to speak without my watery voice catching in my throat. In the end, I had to whisper.

We're good now; sorted our differences. She knows that I didn't want to be involved but had to do what I did; I was only looking after her. She knows that I didn't mean to say the things that I did; I was only reacting to her own painful words. And she knows that I still love her, just as she does me. After all, I'm still her brother and she's still the one person who knows me best.

Man tears are ugly but boy, they help.