How do I Teach my Heart to Cry?

I used to watch him laugh
I used to hold him
when he would cry
I'd give my life for his
without my baby boy I'd die.

I used to play toy cars with him
and scold him when he was bad
but it broke my heart to hear him ask,

"mommy, where's my dad?"

I didn't want to tell him
that his father had deceased
his heart was withered like a garden
his soul had been released.

I could not tell my son
just why
his father was never here
It became harder everyday
with every single cry single tear.

I watched my son grow into
a handsome fine young man
He asked about his father
reliving my fears over
and over again.

Alas, I finally told him
all the details of the truth
he face went pale,
he looked older
no longer looking youth.

My son cried alone that night
for it was to painful
to see his face
though he cried my name out
I couldn't hold him in embrace.

I watched him suffer as a teen
a teen boy without a dad
everyday I loved him
gave him, all that I could
all that I had.

His grade ten year drew closer
most days he locked himself
in his room,
he would not talk at all to me
death represented his gloom.

Days and days
and he grew weaker
and I finally noticed the scars
I couldn't bring myself to say
so I prayed to the heavens
and to the stars.

He was depressed
and he ran into his room
and I didn't see him
at all that night
he created his own
locked away tomb
remembering lonely words
He would recite

Father you have left me
and I wish you could have seen
all of those lost hopless years
I am grown, already fifteen.

My son took his own life
that night
ended it all in a blink
my mind was slowing steady
I couldn't even think.

I noticed it was quiet
so I went to knock
on his bedroom door
seen him lying
a broken angel
a bloody puddle on the floor.

Couldn't get myself to speak
picked up the telephone
they said an abulence would come
but I knew I was on my own.

Craddled my son in my arms
and my fresh tears upon
his cut up face
things that I had forgot to say
times I didn't hold him,
In my motherly embrace.

I kissed his forehead
and wiped my tears
and forgot the world around
I knew he was
no longer breathing
my tears, the only sound.

The funeral was beautiful
white roses placed upon his chest
knowing that having a son like him
God sure put me to the test...

One day I recieved a phone call
from a girl about his age
she said she was having his baby
a baby, she'd need my help to raise.

The sound in my ears
I could let go of my son
I could give him his proper goodbye
setting his soul at a final rest
but how do I teach my heart to cry?