I was coming home from my date last night--riding a crowded Metra train from downtown Chicago to my Burb. The car was late post Friday night party kind of crowded. I noticed a woman sitting across from me. She was intently looking at something on my side of the train. She seemed concerned and fascinated. I turned to the left to try and see what she was looking at. Sitting at the end of my bench, slumped against the chrome handrails was a well dressed middle aged Mexican man.

He was quietly sobbing.

I looked around at people's reactions. Like the woman across from me, everyone was perplexed at best, frightened at worst. Was he drunk? On drugs? A little crazy?

If you see a woman crying on public transportation, you give her a kleenex and a hug or a kind word or two. If you see a man crying on same, you kind of shrink back in embarrassment. Women's tears are common, men's, an aberration.

Had his mother just died? His son? Had he been fired from his dream job? Or did he just feel like he couldn't take it anymore. I was fighting back the tears myself. I don't know about you guys but I cry often, usually in private though. I'll get sad in public, but I'll find a bathroom stall somewhere to quietly cry in for a few minutes. I didn't want to cause a never-ending chain reaction of crying people on the train. That's how he was crying. For every sadness every person had never cried for, wasn't allowed to or was too ashamed to. When the train pulled into my station, I walked by and gently laid my hand on his shoulder--it only made him sob harder--I felt like such a heel for making my unsolicited gesture.

I got off at my Burb stop and quickly drove home so I could cry in peace. I made it to the stairs and broke down. I rushed into my unit. I stood in my front hallway and leaned my head against the back of the front door. That's where I do most of my crying. I felt better afterwards. Crying is a release for me. And while I was crying because I was so very touched by the depth of this man's pain, I was also crying for myself. I think all this new dating stuff just feels so unnatural--I very much miss my former life--it was cut from me too quickly--I hadn't time to prepare for the loss of so many intricately woven facets that I took for granted, apparently. But I do know that I have to break out of this cycle of feeling sorry for myself and dwelling on the past. I thought I had, but it all came rushing back last night as I watched this poor man grieve so desparately. I felt his isolation, his despair.

I wonder how far this man's train ride was. And if he's still so very sad today. I feel very much better now...I sure hope he's doing better, too--I thought about him a lot today.