When I was young, I thought that boys and grown men shouldn't cry. The tears were signs of being weak. A man isn't supposed to be like that. This was even strengthened in my young mind with the popular song, Boys Don't Cry, in the early 1980s.     But just last June, I discovered that courage wasn't all about trying to keep all the pain inside. Courage wasn't all about trying to hide the tears. It was the opposite -- the tears reinforced   the heart's courage. And I saw this in my father.     My 18-year-old sister eloped and with it, I saw how vulnerable   my father's heart was. We were used to seeing him as a strong figure and an iron-willed father. For three days after my sister eloped, he wouldn't talk. He would just sit quietly outside our house in the dark. On the fourth night, I sat beside him and asked him to tell me what he felt about everything.     It has been years since I have laid my hand on my father's shoulder as we have drifted farther while I am growing up. That night, I sensed my father trying to control his pain and I wanted him to be able to let it out. We all cried over what had happened except him.     The simple touch and my words "Dad, it's not your fault" broke my father's dam. In the darkness, he began to cry. I felt his shoulders shaking as he whispered, "Where did I go wrong? All I ever wanted was for my children to grow up right. Why couldn't your sister wait? How can she go away with such a boy?"    I understood then why he preferred to be in the dark. By being there, he hoped to spare his family's feelings. His tears, though we didn't see them before that night, were there all the same. I saw his courage that night when my father cried with my hand on his shoulder, and understood his pain. The author's father didn't cry at first because   _  .
he felt sorry for what he had done before he was very disappointed with his daughter he should set an example to people around he had been trying to control his great pain