A Lonely Yorkshireman

The contradicting ramblings of a sodding old fool

No poem

with 2 comments

I’d like to share a little bit about today with you, whoever you are.

My sister visited me here in England this last week. I’d not seen her
for five years. It was so great having her stay with me. We went round
my local area and also further afield and I showed her many of the
wonderful sights, sounds, tastes and experiences of Yorkshire, England
and Ireland.

She flew back home today. We rose this morning at 04:30 AM to get ready,
take the train to a nearby city where she would board another train for
her final journey to the airport.

Now, first a little back story. The country I grew up in is not one that
condones the idea that a man can cry or have tears in his eyes. Men are
supposed to be strong, take pain and heartache without flinching and beat
the shit out of anyone who doesn’t agree with them.
That’s how I was raised.

At a young age I was forced to do contact sports and martial arts and build
my pain threshold. I was taught that a man never kisses his father, rarely
his mother and greets another man with a sturdy handshake and good eye contact.
Men rarely say the words ‘I love you’. I certainly only tell my parents that
once or twice a year, because saying it too often makes you a “softie”, a “mummy’s boy”.
I’d probably said it a handful of times to my last wife. Not because I didn’t love
her but because I had to be the husband, be strong, not emotionally needy.

I haven’t said “I love you” to my sister for 25 years. Not once.

Today, on that platform she hugged me goodbye. She didn’t stop hugging me.
It weakened my iron will and I felt the words “I love you” slip out of my mouth.

She let go and her smiling face filled with tears. The train doors closed
and she was gone.

Today… I stood on that platform and for half an hour… I cried.


Written by lonelyyorkshireman

August 30, 2011 at 1:18 PM

Posted in Personal

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2 Responses

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  1. I loved your post. I find it infinitely interesting, looking into other lives. Like, we’re born into whatever we are born into, and slowly we separate from it, but we’re still connected to this (a sister) or that (a brother), and so we take it forward. Yes, I really enjoyed your post, ta.


    August 30, 2011 at 1:34 PM

  2. I’m so sorry. I know so well how overwhelming suppressed emotions can overcome a seemingly sturdy facade. I can see you on that platform and it makes sad. Hopefully it won’t be another five years before you see her again. It’s good to write about it and try to understand it to the fullest. Keep writing and take care!

    Unga Bunga Girl

    August 30, 2011 at 7:50 PM

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