I have a complicated relationship with rain and how it ties into my journey.
I love it at all times of the day and any point in the year. There is something that’s soothing about it that relaxes my body without any thought. I love the sound, the feel, the look of my view when its raining. The cold feeling on my skin, the crushing sound when it hits the ground and objects around and how it blurs everything while making me see the view through a different lens. I appreciate and love those feelings that rain fills my soul with. There’s something about these feelings that allow me to connect and travel back to the past.
Ten years ago, it was pouring rain at my dad’s funeral and burial. I have no recollection as to how long we were outside for. It was one of the saddest days I’ve experienced but years later I would see it and make sense of it differently. There was a peace to it. My 18-year-old self would hate my guts for even uttering those words about this day. There was, however, an end to a lot of things following that day. A lot of the things that caused my trauma, sadness, depression, anxiety, greatest fears and one of the people I loved the most to suffer were over with and I’d never have to repeat it again. This meant no more late-night emergency calls, no more smelling the distinct various hospital scents, no more yelling all around, no more evening drives to the hospital, no more weekends or holidays spent in the hospital waiting room, no more terrible hospital food, no more being surrounded by tragedy, no more picking up the phone outside of the ICU to ask if I could see my parent. But mostly no more chances for you to be hurt anymore. No more abrupt procedures and panic of you not making it, no more seeing you wincing in pain, no more feeling hopeless that you’ll never speak to me again, no more hospital gowns on you, no more breathing tube, no more cords hooked up to you, no more feeling guilty for being at school while you suffer, no more guilt of being away from you while you were surrounded by strangers, no more trying to figure out how we were ever going to have you back home, no more being parentless- having my mom back, no more wondering if things are ever going to be okay- finally knowing that it’s over, no more praying and wishing for small miracles, no more fighting with professionals who feel like your life isn’t worth saving, no more glancing outside of a window full of drivers on roads leading to weekend adventures, no more panicking in the shower anticipating yelling from mom after a nurse calls, no more watching you suffer and be the furthest thing from what I wanted to remember of you.
That rainfall was when my tears had blended in with the sounds of pouring crashing down, when I felt safe to finally release those emotions from my body. A release that had been years overdue. Pouring rain was my final goodbye to you and the beginning of what I now recognize as my healing journey.