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Of Rain and Death

Falling in, and losing, love.

By Nixx LeaPublished 4 years ago Updated about a year ago 5 min read
6

I’ve always been the type of girl that finds inspiration and serenity in a good rain storm. Ever since I was a little girl, I would seize every opportunity to sit and watch it fall for hours, my mind creating mini-movies of all the different paths I could choose in my life. A rock star perhaps? I did love music on a soul level. A veterinarian so I could save little animal lives? Possibly. A photographer or painter? Maybe, I could help others see the beauty in what I was seeing. Sometimes, I would race out the back door of my family’s little blue house in my bare feet and leap from the wood porch onto the slimy grass. I would run around while rain pellets struck every part of me, laughing and yelling as if this was a brand new phenomenon and I was the only person in the world experiencing it. The scent that invites you to inhale as deep as you can, until your lungs tighten and your beating heart feels like it’s on the outside of your chest. The sound that instantly soothes and makes you believe you’re right where destiny wants you, or energizes and pushes you to get on your feet and run. Then there’s the feel, as if your skin has never experienced this level of enveloping clean. A celestial clean. A nurturing clean. I had been convinced, since my first love affair with the rain when I was a toddler, that this element would always be my energizing solace no matter the circumstances...

On this day, none of the things I adored about rain were transpiring. The downpour was so thick and vicious, it made the large windows appear alive. Vertical waves swam down the glass, and for a moment I questioned whether the glass was even really there. The rain flowed so easily, so confidently down the panes, I was sure it was just a wall of water and nothing else. I felt drawn to it, as it echoed the disrupt of my world. But there was a foreign disconnect between us that day. I stared blankly at it for a few moments, this thing I once loved. I searched it’s waves for the solace I had always been able to find in it. I began to panic when I realized it wasn’t there, my breath coming and going in shaky spurts. It didn’t want me to find it that day. I started to tremble uncontrollably, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as I could without drawing more attention to myself, which was impossible since I already held the gaze of every eye in the room. Every eye except his. The only gaze I wanted in my direction was the only one I would never have again.

I reached out blindly and grasped the cold wood in front of me for support. Touching it was like a jolt, as if I had stuck my finger in an electrical socket. I broke out of my mind cage, only to be reminded of what was happening to my world outside it. I hung my head and exhaled in defeat. There would be no solace in this, not yet. Maybe not ever. I let my eyes travel slowly up the smooth wood and metal, thinking that the slowness would give the Universe time to correct this grand mistake. As my husband’s ashen face came into view, I felt confused. Was that really him lounging in this casket? Was this a joke, or prank, or drunken nightmare that continued far longer than any other? I glanced to each side and expected someone to lunge at me and scream “Gotcha!”. But no one lunged, and only the rain screamed as it beat the windows. I checked my husband’s chest, it wasn’t rising with breath. I checked his fingers, they weren’t fidgeting. I checked his lips, they weren’t curving in the corners to stifle a grin or laugh. I checked his eyes, they weren’t peeking at me. I inhaled sharply when the realization came crashing down on me, for neither the first nor the last time. My inner voice seemed to be coming from the Universe itself. “This is real, this is true, and yes, now you’re a widow at 38. Forget all the plans you had for your future together, you’re on your own now. Let’s see if you’ll survive.”

I looked at my husband’s shell, and evaluated the space inside the casket. I could most likely fit in there with him, I thought silently. I wanted to turn around and face the mourners gathered in the room and proclaim, “I’m gonna head out too, just shut the lid down tight once I’m in! Love you! Bye!”. I closed my eyes again and tried to control my erratic breaths. Hot tears ran down my face. I envisioned myself falling to the floor because my lungs had been empty for too long. Then I heard it. The sound. The soothing, energizing, familiar sound. The Universe seemingly took over my inner dialogue once again. “Stay calm, little one. This is not your time. Say your goodbyes.” I quickly fluttered my eyes open and was finally able to inhale deeply. I nodded at the rain in thanks, and brushed my husband’s cold cheek with my fingers. I squeezed his stiff hand, and lovingly turned the silver wedding ring on his finger. As I leaned in to give him our last kiss, I whispered every loving thought I had of him, and thanked him for loving me in return for 17 years. I asked him to understand why I couldn’t join him, because it turns out, real life is not like the '80s love songs I adore. “I’d die for you” is a lot harder to follow through with when you’re actually face to face with the option. I kissed his dry, grey lips and said “See ya later sweetheart”, leaving an invisible chunk of myself laying next to him on the milky satin.

love
6

About the Creator

Nixx Lea

Lover of animals, nature, music, art, books, and the Moon.

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