Can you make me cry...?

Question

tears of joy?

Answer 1

Love is, and always will be, with you. Be it from the world, a friend, or a significant other.

Answer 2

oh...i'm crying tears of joy!!

let me spread my joy to you via email...

rofl...lol

Answer 3

No, but I could probably make you recoil in disgust.

Answer 4

The soldier sat weeping

Alone on his stiff sheetless bed

nothing was going right

since his father was dead.

He'd been away from his family

fighting in this horrible mess

he consistantly had nightmares

of his last breath.

His father was not in the army

but he was a hero all the same

the soldier felt sadness

grief, lowliness, and shame.

The soldier cursed

and flipped over the nightstand

"Why? Why?" he cried

"I can't do it, I just can't!"

Through his own voice

he heard another one somewhere

seemed to be inside of him

telling him to have no fear?

He swore to himself

"I shall never be happy again"

that night, his face in the pillow,

he dreamed about this being all pretend.

When he woke up the next morning

dark, it still was

sounded like a big truck

released a boom, a thud, a buzz .

He went out to investigate

the agitating sound

not a truck, but a RV bus

an officer came out and his fists began to pound.

"Listen up soldiers

I'm looking for one of you"

He pointed to the soldier

And he thought, "Now what have I got to lose?".

As he was walking over

the officer ushered him in

he was amazed to see

his wife, son, and a new baby named Lynn.

The soldier almost fainted

when he saw his brand new little girl

and his wife and son run to him

while she was sleeping in a curl.

With a little tear

his son said "Daddy we're bringing you home

please don't leave again"

the sentence ran right through him, sort of like a comb.

He went to the cemetery the next day

to see his father's grave

said "Dad I hope you are proud of me

because you've taught me to be brave".

(when i read it, it was definitly one of those things that just might mean something in your life)

Answer 5

The results of your cancer screening are in-they were all negative.

Answer 6

My mother is getting married. Her second marriage. But who do you care?

Answer 7

I've had that effect on some people over the years.

Answer 8

After two weeks in the hospital, Tom was allowed to come home. The day after homecoming, he was able to vote in the local elections the next day. Voting was always very important to Tom.

Two days after coming home, we had an appointment with Oncology. We were going to plan for a course of action. During this appointment, we were told that Tom had no more than a year to live. All things considered, we took the news well. We figured that we would simply spend the next year traveling and recording music. We didn't really talk about this with friends over the next week. We just sort of let things be for the time being.

Something wasn't quite right with Tom. I had to, at this point, make the assumption that the stroke had genuinely damaged something in his brain. He was able to play his bass quite well considering what he'd been through. However, as he played a song he'd been working on prior to the stroke, there was one note which he was hitting incorrectly. And he made the same mistake every time. I didn't mention it. I was just so happy that he was able to play after his ordeal.

On November 13, 2001, I noticed that he seemed different. I'd actually started to notice the night before and spent the night waking him every hour to be sure he was OK. I just felt like he was weaker and things didn't really look right. I decided to ask the physical therapist what he thought when he arrived later that morning. Upon his arrival, he agreed with me that something wasn't right. I'd left a message for his Neurologist already and decided to call again. The Neurologist was in surgery and would be until noon.

The physical therapist left and, within an hour or so, things slowly got worse. Again, there was the appearance of stroke-like symptoms. I called and advised the neurologist's office that I was bringing Tom to Emergency. I packed Tom in the car and dragged him off to the hospital. While they rushed him into CT, I called his family.

The Neurologist came to me and brought me to look at the CT scans. He advised immediately that things looked very grim. A tumor had grown to a massive size within the last three weeks' time. The doc, forgetting himself for a moment, said in a low voice, "It's really remarkable. I've never seen anything like it."

When I saw the scans, I knew, somewhere deep down, that I would not be taking my husband home. The tumor was enormous, filling about 1/4th of his skull cavity, pressing on the brain-stem. My husband was dying.

I started calling friends and telling them to come to the hospital now.

I didn't tell anyone what I'd seen on those CT scans. How could I? How can I tell my in-laws that their son is dying. The docs were going to try some heroic efforts that would likely have damaged his brain beyond comprehension. Before they had the opportunity, Tom had lapsed into a coma. At this point, we were told that Tom's body was shutting down and that he would likely not last the night.

At about this time, Tom's family had been on the scene for about an hour. I spent time sitting outside with one of his family members who, until this point, I didn't particularly care for. But this was the easiest conversation I'd had all day. I was able to speak with him with a level head and without my heart breaking into a million pieces.

The docs moved Tom to the Neuro-ward where they could properly care for him and make anything more comfortable for him. It was about 8 PM. Tom's friends had started arriving. No one wanted to see him. They were all afraid of remembering him this way. I assured them all that he appeared completely peaceful. As he lay there, comatose, he appeared more peaceful than he'd looked in weeks. He looked just as he did when he was napping on the couch at home; snoring and drooling slightly on his pillow. People were reassured by that and, in groups of three, they all went in to say goodbye.

There were well over 30 of our friends gathered in the waiting room that night. They all sat around and told their favorite Tom stories. Tony talked about midnight rehearsals and 7-layer burritos from Taco Bell. Dave talked about the night when they all got... er... under the influence... and watched the video of Dave's Barmitzvah, laughing their asses off. There was a phrase in Hebrew that Tom thought sounded like "Billy Tee-top" and forever called Dave "Billy Tee-top" from that day forward. Matt talked about how he'd met Tom on the internet and invited him to try out for a band. Tom showed up with a 6-string fretless bass and everyone rolled their eyes, assuming that he would be just as bad as every other fretless bass player out there. When Tom wowed them with his accuracy, they became fast friends. Everyone joked about his obsession with slip-on vans. They were the only shoes he wore since high school and had only owned lace-ups for dressy occasions.

I sort of hung out on the edges of the group, not willing to be a part of the conversations. Everyone knew that I was in shock and didn't press me for an emotional reaction. In my mind, my darling Tom was already gone. The moment he'd fallen into a coma and we knew he wouldn't be back, I knew that he was gone. In fact, I knew that he was mostly gone from the time he'd had the stroke even if no one else realized it. I'd been mourning his loss since the moment I saw the CT scans earlier that day.

By 1 AM on November 14th, I realized that he would not be passing before perhaps 6 AM that morning. I began to tell his friends that we would call when he passed and that they needn't feel the need to stay for my sake. As they all trickled out of the hospital, I settled in with Tom's parents and sister, who could not bear to leave his side. I understood even if I didn't feel the same need at the moment.

Tom's poor sister. She was a college student, just barely, and we never really got her involved much in the hospital doings. It was partly to save her a repeat of the emotional rollercoaster she rode when her mother passed away at a very young age. This was the first time I'd seen her in a hospital. She was, of course, horrified and bawling by the time she arrived earlier that evening long after he'd lapsed into a quite deep comatose state. He was no longer responding to pain stimuli and his pupils were no longer responding to light. She sat by her brother's side and put his hand in hers. He squeezed her hand. It was very much a reflex action but how could we tell her that? We let her believe that he was saying hello in his own way. She sat with him for 8 hours, waiting for him to squeeze her hand again. He never did.

I went home and slept for 3 hours. I hadn't slept in over two days. I knew he wouldn't pass while I was gone. I just sort of knew.

I returned to the hospital and sat by his bedside for several hours. His body was shutting down a piece at a time. In the late morning, we could tell when he was ready to go. We all stood around his bed and watched as he took his last breath. I knew that he was gone. I have a vague memory of collapsing at the foot of the bed, sprawling over his feet, sobbing hysterically as if my soul were escaping my body.

After perhaps a minute or two, something happened that happens to all bodies after expiration. Through the centuries, primitive peoples have believed that this was the moment when one's soul left the body. Some people call it the "death rattle", others call it the death cry. The scientific explaination is that, air trapped in the body's lungs expels when the body's muscles relax after death, causing the body's vocal chords to vibrate. It's a simple process to understand.

That's the scientific effect. The psychological effects can damage you for life. After a minute or two of me realizing that my husband was dead, I heard his voice cry out. (I'm sorry if I've just guaranteed you nightmares tonight.) His voice called out and I was angry. I was angry at this lifeless body for causing me so much shock and horror and anguish at that moment, as if it did so to punish me somehow. All at once, my rational mind took over for the first time in well over 3 weeks. I remembered that other things would happen as the body settled in after death. These were things that I dare not witness in someone with whom I was so close. I grabbed his parents and dragged them out of that room.

We went into the empty waiting room, just trying to collect ourselves. Tom's dad swore a lot and I think he threw a few things around the room. Tom's mom remarked that she was thankful for being an athiest as she would otherwise be cursing god in that moment. I pretty much sat there frozen, unsure what to do or feel or think.

I signed a couple papers for the morgue and I left to go suck down a cigarette. As I walked outside, I was angry. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was a beautiful blue and was clear as could be. It was a plesant temperature and it was the kind of day that you would choose for a walk in the park. At least, back home, I could always rely on the weather to rain for me when I was sad.

As horrible as I felt in that moment, as awful as things were, I felt peace. He didn't feel pain. He didn't live life with any sort of ailment stopping him from doing what he enjoyed. He left this world with his mind in tact. He loved me and I loved him. I knew in that moment, as tragic as things were, I would be OK.

A couple days later, a friend asked me what was the last thing Tom said to me. The answer was simple. He told me that he wasn't afraid.

The moral of this part of the story: Life is for the living. When people we love leave us, we go on living. If we don't, they die a second, more horrible kind of death.

Answer 9

YOU JUST SAVED A BUNCH OF MONEY ON YOUR CAR INSURANCE BY SWITCHING TO GEICO!

^^

Answer 10

Your great aunt died..You just inherited a 4 million dollar ranch, antique car collection and $24 million in cash!! Are you crying tears of joy now....:)