The first time I saw my father cry
was heart-breaking and world shattering to me-
I think I was about eight years old,
the night that our dog Jess died,
the night that everyone in our house came together
and cried with my Dad as we said goodbye to a part of our family.
Thinking back to that night is like trying to remember a dream,
but what is still real in my mind, and what has stayed with me,
is seeing my Dad overcome with so much sadness,
because it was something that I had never seen.
I cried on that night because Jess was my dog,
but the reason I cried and could not stop crying
was because to me my Dad was a God,
and seeing the most powerful
and one of the most influential people in my life powerless,
as he appeared,
it taught me from an early age that everything comes to an end
and that even the god that was my father had limits to his magic
that he was forced to adhere.

Whenever I see my father cry
I feel every tear of sadness, and joy, as if they were my own;
whenever I see my fathers tears well-up in front of his mesmerizing blue eyes,
I always take him by the hand and tell that he is not alone.
My Dad feels the world more so than anyone I have ever known,
my Dad is a lover and a genius of all things-
as would be more than apparent if you were to talk to him
and if you were lucky enough to visit him at his home.
There is nothing that hurt my heart more,
and there is nothing else that to this day brings more tears to my eyes,
than to see the powerhouse who is my Dad overcome with emotion,
and the sight of seeing my father cry.