When my father died, I did not cry. When my cat died three days later, I cried a lot.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
When my mum first told me she got sick, I didn't cry. I probably cried over my mum's illness twice.
Growing up, I saw my mother cry exactly once. The morning of her brother's funeral. One long tear ran down her cheek through her make up until she caught it near her mouth and patted it dry with a tissue she pulled from inside her sleeve.
When my son was born, and after a day of lying-in I was told that I could leave the hospital and take him home, I burst into tears. It wasn't the emotion of the moment: it was shock and horror.
I grew up not liking my father very much. I never saw him cry. But he must have. Everybody cries.
I probably only cried five or six times in my life and I think four of those times was from my daddy kicking my butt.
I cry so much less than I used to. I used to be one of the most teary people.
When my twin grandchildren, Linda and Lyeke, were born two years ago, it changed me. I felt it was the essence of what life is about, and I cried all day. When my son Pierre, their father, was born I didn't cry like that.
Sometimes, I cry because I'm sad, and sometimes, I cry just because it's just emotional and it's super awesome.
When I need to cry, I think of very sad things, mostly about animals.
I don't really remember, but I'm positive that whenever I cried, my mother gave me something to eat. I'm sure that whenever I had a fight with the little girl next door, or it was raining and I couldn't go out, or I wasn't invited to a birthday party, my mother gave me a piece of candy to make me feel better.
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