Apologies! I haven’t had much time to write (or do anything much really) this past month or so. But just so you don’t think I’ve dropped off of the face of the earth, here is something I wrote about a year ago. It’s hard to believe that it has been that long and all that has come in between.
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I’m sitting at the nurse’s station at 3am, thinking about Bobby and how long he doesn’t have left. Then I hear a quiet whisper like cool water running down my throat. High above it is the rain on the skylights and the sound soothes my soul.
That gentle patter stills my mind awhile until my thoughts drift to the old dog that Granda Mark had. It was so terrified of water that you couldn’t wash him. Sneaking up on him didn’t work. If you tied him up he’d snap the chain as soon as he saw the hose in your hand. The only way to clean the mangy cur was to lock it outside in the rain.
It makes me smile. Then it hurts because it makes me think of Mark and all the good times that we shared and the loss is hardly three days old and still bleeding a little.
For a second I shy away from the sting but then, with a little hesitation, I embrace it. My soul aches with the unnatural wrongness of loss and my throat burns but after a little, I discover that it doesn’t ache so very much. So I sit at the nurse’s station, keeping watch.
Above me the rain keeps falling and outside the world keeps turning, soothing in its onward march. But here I sit and smile, pained to my soul but soothed by the sound of rainfall and the sweet, fresh balm of remembrance.