Rain, Rain, Go Away

It rained almost all day long here, and when it wasn't raining, it was threatening to rain.

While I am really a sunshine-aholic, I do actually like rainy days sometimes -- certain kinds of rainy days and certain things about it. I love spring and summer showers, when the air is warm, and the rain falls softly. I love when the sky gets a certain greyness to it when it's raining; when I had my first apartment, I used to leave the front door open, so I could look at the sky and watch the rain falling through my screen door. It really does evoke such a peaceful feeling for me. I love the smell of rain (I guess, it's more the freshness of the earth that I'm smelling, right?) I love the coziness that a rainy day brings; it's great to curl up in an armchair with my cat and a cup of homemade soup in hand, reading a good book. I love summer thunderstorms when the lightening streaks across the sky, the thunder booms ominously and the rain comes down in hard lines. I love the sounds of the rain drumming rhythmically on a rooftop -- my parents used to have this corrugated plastic roof over our back porch and the sound of the rain pelting down on it was just so hypnotic, reassuring and soothing all at once. I like having sex when it rains and curling up afterwards, watching the water form rivulets down the window panes.

Almost two years ago, a friend and colleague committed suicide. The morning that the terrible news was delivered to me. was a beautiful sunny fall one; the sort when the sky is clear blue and the air feels crisp. I remember sitting on sun-warmed concrete steps outside a neighbouring office in utter shock for what seemed like an eternity.

Later that night, I went out to meet some good friends who felt that I shouldn't be alone. By that point, the perfect autumn weather had come to an end, and the skies had opened up and delivered the most massive rainfall we'd had in months. While I drove to my meeting place, I had my windshield wipers on completely, and I tried to focus on the combined sounds of the rain hitting my windows at full force and the wipers squeaking as they cleared the water, rather than on my own thoughts.

The rain continued all that night. It was as though the world was joining me in my gigantic tear fest, wailing its grief alongside mine. I was strangely grateful that Mother Nature had sent along such a big storm to drown out the sound of my crying.

The next morning which was the day of M's funeral, the sky was overcast and grey, reflecting the general sombre moods of all the funeral goers. As we drove away from the service, it began to gently rain. I couldn't help but think back to my childhood when I thought that one could request certain kinds of weather. Surely, someone had ordered this -- it was completely synchronous with my emotions. If anyone had asked me how I was feeling at the time, I would have had to simply point to the window.

It took me a little over a month to screw up the courage to return to my office after M's death, and even then, I stopped going with the same frequency as I had been up until that point. In the almost two years since his death, I've probably stepped foot in there a little over a dozen times only. I think after M died, I stopped wanting to be an agent. Not that I'd ever been wildly passionate about it, but I'd lost my taste for hunting down new business and the ensuing satisfaction of a job well done.

This morning, I woke up, took one look at the sky and felt inexplicably blue. I slept-walked through my usual morning tasks (breakfast, packing lunches, dropping off the kids, etc.) and then surveyed my very long to-do list, wondering what to tackle first. Should I get domestic stuff done (there was a ton), or work-related items? My phone rang as I was still mentally debating; it was a good friend of mine (he always seems to call me at these kind of key moments) to tell me that he had a free hour or so, and asked if I would like to meet up with him. We always have a blast together, so I gave my list a guilty look before I stuffed it under some papers on my desk.

At some point during our meeting, I burst into tears quite unexpectedly (again, not PMS induced). My friend quietly hugged me as I blubbered, sobbed and snorked on his shoulder. After the crying storm had passed, I realised M. had been on my mind these past few days. Today's weather just brought back all the memories of the one rainfall that wasn't accompanied by my usual delight.

Missing you M.