Rainy Tuesday

Its Tuesday and it's raining, which seems to be the two conditions that spur me into pity-blogging whenever they occur together.

I had the worst dreams last night. It was about twins, who I don't know, and they were dying. Little girls. It was long and horrible. I felt too much of their pain.

And then I dreamed of my little big brother, Timothy, who died before I got the chance to meet him. He was looking up at me like he knew who I was all along.

And then I woke up thinking about how I'm going to die, and what that's going to be like. And I freaked myself out a little bit, but not in a panicky anxiety way.. it just felt so sorrowful. Like. The price we pay for all of this, is that. Death. I wanted to sob, but choked it back. I'm trying to recover. I'm trying to recover. I'm trying to recover.

And this storm of grief that came to me this morning, again, was met by my old friend, the rain, in all of it's astuteness. Coming to me like a warm blanket and mug of broth whenever its truly needed.

I love the rain. I appreciate the rain. It reminds me that when I cry, I do not cry alone. The blues and greys excite me on a primal level. The brooding sky brings me joy.

But the rain feeds THAT mood, too. The mood of disconsolateness.

Memories of my dress flapping against my legs at the cemetery come back, and more memories of how the warm rain was falling on our faces, our shoulders, and our hands. I can feel traces of the warm winds that were blowing, circling our grief and sharing in our sorrow.

I am trying so hard to stay above water. I really am.

But I am so drawn to darkness. I google my mom's name, knowing full well all that will come up is her obituary. I think of her mostly, smiling and laughing, but sometimes that goes awry, and I think of her in the ground. It doesn't do me any kind of good to let the mind go there. It feels like I am ripping at my innards and pulling out my heart with my bare hands. I don't know why I can't just stop.

I know that everyone, or most people anyway, resists change. I don't know if that is my problem right now. It's not just about change to really, really miss someone.

She was the most important person in my life. That doesn't mean to say that I don't love and didn't love other people, at all. It just means that she was the one who I always looked forward to seeing. She was fun. She was happy. She loved without apprehension. She laughed more than any one I've ever met, and not in a fake way. She looked for the best in people and was always quick to forgive.

She knew me from the get go; I never had to summarize myself in words for her. She loved all of me, even the parts she didn't understand which seemed to be pretty few and far between.

Not only did I lose my mom, but I lost my best friend. I lost the person I most looked up to. I lost my lighthouse, my rock. I lost a piece of my soul.

And here I sit at stupid work, needing to get it done and out the door. It is Tuesday, after all. And once again, as if on command, the rain resumes its pouring down.