“I don’t think I’ve cried as much as I have in the past two weeks,” I told my wife last Saturday night, just 24 hours before the Olympic torch was extinguished in Vancouver.

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” she said.

I always thought women liked the strong silent type, not the weepy, wimpy crybaby.

When I was conceived, I think a deal was worked out between the X and Y sperm. The Y gave way to the X with one condition -that I would have a slice of the emotional sensibility that is inherent in the genetic makeup of most females.

The stories that emerged from the 2010 Winter Olympic Games filled my heart with emotions ranging from empathy, to joy, to sorrow, to pride.

As I planted myself in front of the television each day for for my fix of Olympic competition, it seemed as if the world’s greatest athletes was conspiring against me.

Many of the stories that emerged from the games tugged on my heart strings.

I cried, and cried some more.

It’s not like I was bawling while a bunch of my buddies were standing around. I still grab my emotional armor from the foyer closet before I head out into the world each day.

But within the confines of my home, let the lacrimation begin.

My cry sessions from the Vancouver Olympics started with the first gold medal victory by Alexandre Bilodeau on Valentine’s Day.

In an interview after he won the freestyle skiing mogul's title, the 22-year-old was asked what it meant to have his brother Frederic, who was born with cerebral palsy, in the stands to witness his historic feat.

"It's really getting me right now," he said. "My brother has been an inspiration for me. Growing up with a brother that's handicapped, you learn so much."

Cue the tears.

Normally you wouldn’t catch me watching figure skating, but I was entranced by the performance of ice dance gold medallists Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir.

When they completed their amazing first place free skate, Scott looked down at Tessa and said “thank you so much.”

I reached for the Kleenex box. Skeleton gold medallist Jon Montgomery was probably my favourite athlete of the entire games.

His reaction to winning the gold was classic Canadiana. His march through Whistler following the event, chugging a pitcher of beer handed to him by a fan, caused me to rub the expulsion of pride from my eyes.

You likely won’t ever see that happen again. Only in Canada.

Jasey Jay Anderson’s unexpected gold medal in snowboard men's parallel giant slalom jerked more tears from my eyes. Nicknamed Canadian Rocket and Old Man, the 34- year-old athlete achieved his ultimate goal in his fourth and final Olympic games.

The married father of two had nearly thrown in the towel four times. But he stuck around because he didn't want his daughters to think their dad was a quitter.

I had similar emotional outbursts watching Clara Hughes win bronze in the speed skating 5000 metre event, an amazing sixth medal in her illustrious Olympic career.

I have to believe there wasn’t a dry eye in all of Canada after Joannie Rochette won bronze in figure skating, just days after her mother passed away. What an inspiring performance. What an amazing person. The goldest bronze ever.

The outpouring of Canadian pride exhibited during the Vancouver Olympics melted my heart time and time again over the past two weeks. I am often frustrated by our reluctance to exhibit nationalism. I am extremely proud to be Canadian, and have never been afraid to show it.

We are so lucky to live in this great nation, and our Olympic athletes provided a reminder to all of us just how awesome we are.

It was worth every last tear.