For my little brother

Salvation

My arm was still around Ricky's shoulder as night fell. His face was still buried in his hands, but it appeared that he had stopped crying. I had remained silent the entire time, picturing my mother and my younger brother in my head, trying to insert myself into the photograph. To be there with them... to be there for them.

Finally, he moved. "I-I'm... I'm sorry..." he began.

"There is nothing to be sorry about."

"I wasted your time and ignored your advice," he said. "I-I know you were just trying to be a good friend and all, but in the end it really is my fault." He sniffled. "Shouldn't have fought when I couldn't win, shouldn't have shouted back when I was insulted. I really should have just let it go and backed off... But I don't like being considered weak. I'm not weak, because I'm strong."

"You are strong," I responded. "I mean, what you did was a bit foolish, I'll admit... But it was daring of you to do so."

"But I've been far too weak recently," he said in a muffled voice. "I've cried too much... can't stop crying. My father said crying was for the weak, and even my mother told me that boys shouldn't cry. But..."

I tapped him on the shoulder. "Too weak?" I almost scoffed, but got serious again when I let my own words sink in. "You've... you've been through a lot already. Nobody should have to endure your pain, especially not someone your age."

"Neither should my siblings. Or my mother."

"They have reason to cry. You're no exception; you're human just like them. I think you're qualified to cry."

There was a long pause. "I just want to be able to see them again," he said softly.

"I feel you. I feel your pain."

He brushed his hand roughly across his eyes. "It's unmanly to cry."

"I know what you mean."

"I know what I've been through and all, but it still seems so... feminine to cry. The strong shed no tears."

"You think they don't... but didn't Jesus cry?"

"Who?"

"Jesus."

He looked at me. "He did?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he?"

Good question. "I... I think He cried because He got rejected by His own people, the people He was trying to save. He came to earth to save the people He created, and yet some people didn't believe Him. He knew it was going to happen; He knew He was going to die. But He still couldn't help but cry."

He was silent for a bit. "What does that have to do with me?"

"I... well, I thought that, if the Creator of the universe permits Himself to cry, then surely you can too."

"That doesn't mean I should, though. It could've just made him look weak too."

"Hey." I straightened up. "He cried because He had emotions. He cried because He loved the people, not because He was a baby. He could be happy or sad, nervous or angry. He had feelings too. If you love your sister and your brother, wouldn't you cry for them too?" I stopped to deal with my own tears, which were coming back. "If you're strong in love, you're strong in tears."

We were quiet for several minutes. When I became uncomfortable with the silence, I asked, "You love your sister and your brother, don't you?"

"Of... Of course," he responded. "I'm sure I told you that, didn't I?"