People react differently to human passage

If 11-year-old children are capable of hate then in September 1965 a personal loathing existed for my brother, Willie Lee Parker, Jr.

He had not cried for our recently deceased mother, at least not in my presence, not in public, and as far as I knew, not anywhere.

No tears equated to no love. That made Willie, 15 months older than me, a sworn protector against any and all bullies, and a Winslow Little League baseball hero, a persona non grata.

We had not shared our first death, had not walked into those dark shadows that accompany transformation or going home. Instead, our paths in life diverted during that tragic time as we grew apart.

Death changed us, caught us unprepared for life despite our Cub Scout pledge of honor, duty, strength, mental awareness and moral straightness. Our short life history had produced dead animals, especially during fall harvests of pigs and hunting trips as sort of human bird dogs for our father’s accurately aimed ammunition but Ella Melba Parker represented our first human death.

She lay there in the casket, as tutor and teacher, delivering a shockingly, cold unspoken revelation about this summer-chill, hardhearted truth of life: you live, work hard, spend 20 or 30 years struggling, sometimes robbing Peter to pay Pauline, collect memories and die. Maybe you get 80 years although the grim reaper harvested Ella Melba Parker in half that time.

Stay around long enough and life informs that people have myriad responses to death. Had someone explained these parables of death, how people react differently to human passage, then Willie would have received tolerance, consideration and understanding, especially when set beside the reality that my brother wept about a lot of “insignificant” events after our mother’s death.

A study by the makers of eye drop Hycosan Fresh, found men are leas embarrassed about crying in front of others, with four in ten claiming they would not be bothered about shedding a tear in public compared to just a third of women. Personally, no tears have been produced since the recent passing of my brother, Robert, and niece, Keesha.

No doubt a good cry awaits. Almost reached a tear letting while listening to Dan Fogelberg’s Christmas classic “Same Old Lang Syne” as he sings about bumping into an old love inside a supermarket.

That part about “Just for a moment I was back at school And felt that old familiar pain And, as I turned to make my way back home The snow turned into rain” almost moved me to tears.

Not just yet though. A good cry sets on the horizon, ready to start over nothing but really being based on losing friends and family through breakup or death.

Dr. David Lax, a member of Campus Eye Group, recently discovered a dry eye issue.

“Have you ever used fake tears,” Lax asked.

Have a preference for real ones.