I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my man card over this story.
It was May of 2010. I had been back from the field for just over 2 months, and Joelle was set to go to New Mexico for the Summer. She had stopped in California on her way back from Australia 2 weeks prior, and during that time I had proposed to her. She was going home to report back to her church and reconnect with family, and we likely wouldn’t see each other for another three months or so.
The night before she left, we took a walk in the park. We got to talking about what we planned on doing over the Summer, and before we could get a lot of talking done I started bawling like a baby.
Here was a grown man, crying his eyes out on a park bench.
There were a lot of strong emotions involved in that particular evening–I was going to miss my fiancee and I didn’t want her to go–but oddly enough, the thing that got me whimpering wasn’t her. It was my church.