T I S S U E. . . ?

boo-hoo

verb

  bü-ˈhü  , ˈbü-ˌhü \variants:  or boohooor less commonly boo hooboo-hooed or boohooed; boo-hooing or boohooing

Definition of boo-hoo

intransitive verb: to weep loudly and with sobs … even the impeccable Lord Jeffrey, editor of the Edinburgh Review, confessed to having cried—blubbered, boohooed, snuffled, and sighed—over the death of Little Nell in The Old Curiosity Shop.— Tom WolfeJoey kept boo-hooing like a real idiot.— Christopher Paul Curtis—often used as an interjection especially in mocking imitation of another’s tears, complaints, unhappiness, etc.Before she finished her question, one twin and then the other began to cry. “Boohoo, boohoo,” Ernie mocked. “I’m not staying with crybabies.”— Nancy Smiler LevinsonHe said as long as I was being so pure, why not give her the real scoop on her old man? I said because it would crush her. Boo hoo, he said.— George Saunders

Other Words from boo-hoo

boo-hooor boohoonoun, plural boo-hoos or boohoos … the tough Garden crowd reacted with boos instead of boo-hoos. — Richard Johnsonboo-hooingor boohooingnoun “Woman: cease this detestable boohooing instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.” — George Bernard Shaw No one feels good after being dumped. The loudest boo-hooing seems to be coming from young people … — Jane Bryant Quinn

Uhhhhhh. . .Maybe this is a better graphic definition of
BOO-HOO-ING. . .
what Ben Rothlisberger and all of Steeler Nation

did this past Sunday night when the Cleveland Browns,
decimated with COVID19 breakouts and injuries
severely upset the Steelers. . .
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the Pain
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the Shame
until very early Monday Morning
right after I got to the inpatient hospice unit
where a patient had just died
moments before I encountered his son
in the hallway. . .

My tears were still wet and and now cold and still too salty for any kind of good flavoring from the hours earlier beat down of my favorite team
natural because I was born in bred less than 30 minutes
from Heinz Field
I know, I know, BOO-HOO
The Browns not only beat but embarrassed and eliminated the Steelers on this God-forsaken Sunday night. . .
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh the pain of the grief;
the shame. . .
No matter which way you spin it, it doesn’t make a difference. . .
until the difference
makes all the difference
in a world that values even a smidgen of CARE;
A little after 7:30 on this Monday morning I met a son who’s dad just died just moments before I arrived. And as I was expressing my condolences and letting him know a little bit about how we’re still going to be there for him, because his dad was our patient, but he, his mom and his sister were our concern right now.
He said, “You know what was special for me?” He swallowed hard and tears set on the edge of the BROWNS Face mask he had pulled high up on his nose. “What was special for me is that my dad and I got to watch one of the greatest Browns football games ever; that we had a moment that nobody can ever take away from us.” He wiped his eyes as he paused and then continued, “And they not only one the first playoff game in decades, but they beat the Freaking Pittsburgh Steelers in Pittsburgh. Man, what a great night.”
And as we talked about all the dark clouds that have forever seemed to overshadow the city of Cleveland; The Curse and The Fumble, The Drive, he said that this made up for everything.
Erin always tells me (usually when the Steelers get beat) “IT’S JUST A GAME!” and I always tell her
until it isn’t. . .
as I go sulking away into the dark night of my soul. . .
B U T
In that encounter
At that Moment
I had with that man
(who’s name I never knew)
who was now crying in front of me
not because his dad had just died
or because he was grieving his father
and not because he had just had a moment
and not just a special moment
but the defining moment
of his and his dad‘s life
not the end of his life
but really
the continuing of both of their lives
interwoven together with the golden thread
of that one single moment
and that he was a part of that
and he didn’t miss it
and how sacredly hallowed it was. . .
I guess some tears are more salty than others

Some tears are just to warm and wet
to be soaked up in the best of towels
In fact
there are some tears
that literally inspire other tears
that are way less salty, too. . .
The only thing that makes a moment better
than the moment
is sharing it with somebody
so they can have
a some kind of a moment, too 
and for this humble Caring Catalyst
I’m more of a grateful
recipient
than a
deflated fan

BOO-HOO
. . .I think not

Some call it a Coincidence.

Some call it Happenstance.

Some call it Spooky.

Some call it on Purpose.

Some call it Compassionate Kindness.

Some call it an Accident.

Some call it Grace.

Some call it a Hospice Moment.

It was the day of his funeral.

I only met him once. The second time I went to visit him on a pure whim, (I had talked to his daughter earlier in the day and we decided I would come the next day) he had died just about ten minutes before I arrived.

The relationship here, was mostly with the family that I spent time providing supportive presence and active listening/validation of feelings/comments; facilitating life/faith/family review. There were lots of stories, ‘once-upon-a-time’s,’ and ‘remember-when’s.’

He was born in 1925 and lived life in all capital letters; lied to get into the Navy to fight in WWII and never minded doing for another what needed to be done even before they knew it needed done.

All stories I had gladly heard from family members. All to help me gather information as we planned a memorial service to, Remember, Honor and Celebrate his life.

It was the day of his funeral.

On my way to his funeral, some 45 miles a way, I noticed that I had about 75 miles to go before I ran out of gas.

The Dashboard FLASHED it on/off at me.

No problem, I thought, I’ll be arriving early to the service, I’ll just fill up at the exit where the funeral home was located. Everything was fine. I got off the exit. There was a gas station about a mile and a half from the Funeral Home and then I remembered….

…oh my, my, my MY WALLET was, well, it wasn’t with me. I left it at home in the glove box.

No time. I will just call Erin, my wife, tell her what a dumb jerk she married and beg her to meet me half way with a credit card so I can get gas.

I called her with the plan as I pulled in to the Funeral Home parking lot…and she agreed, NOT that I was a dumb jerk, but to meet me after the funeral.

I literally just got out of the car, heard it BEEPED locked and was walking toward the Entrance when the son-in-law, daughter and wife of the patient pulled into the lot. I greeted the Funeral Director and asked if it was alright to with him travel to the Cemetery and back, to which he agreed.

About this time, the son-in-law opened the door the his wife and mother-in-law and came over directly to me to shake my hand and greet me. Without even a half breath later, he asked, “Would it be okay if I borrowed your car to go the grocery store on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” I said and handed him the keys I had yet to pocket.

I went into the funeral home, met with family and talked with some friends who were going to speak at the service and about five minutes before the service, the son-in-law came back and asked me, “Do you keep track of your mileage?”

I thought he was going to tell me that I had about 24 miles to go before running out of gas.

Before I could say anything, he handed me the receipt he had gotten from filling up my tank.

A Coincidence? A Happenstance? Spooky? On Purpose? Compassionate Kindness? An Accident? Grace? A Pure Hospice Moment.

People often ask me, “After twenty years, how can you still do this work that’s surrounding with all this dying and death?”

Psssssst: It’s because of WHAT I GET!

Often…so very, very often my tank gets filled up from a Gas Station which accepts no credit card and disposes no petro.

Who would think that one who attempts to provide multiple acts of kindness and compassion would ever become a Victim of one?