Any day after the day he was born has been my favorite day. The first time he ever read a book to me on his own, a lump of coal formed in my throat, I nearly cried. I made myself a promise to never shed a tear in front of him. They say tears is a form of weakness, and I don't see it entirely that way. Sometimes you can't hold back, and the pain can't remain within forever. It's logical. His only father figures are my brothers and his grandfather and myself. Yes I decided to include myself as well. I've taught him morals along the way, morals to mold him into a better person. And so far I think I've done a splendid job. I want him to be strong, regardless of the things that go around him, he has to be a rock. Not always, even rocks feel the rain at times. But I want him to be a well rounded individual. And if he ever sees me crying, it has to be something critical. Death serious sort of dilemma. I've never seen my mother cry. NEVER. When her favorite aunt died, her eyes were full of tears but not one spilled. I'm sure she prefers crying when she's alone or in the shower that way the tears will blend in with the water, or maybe she covers her face with a pillow so she won't feel them on her face. I'd like to think so because that's what I do. Tears are pain or weakness leaving the body. And for all means, get the fuck out. Peace.