On the Rainy Days…

On the rainy days, I struggle the most. 

Rainy days are hard. I cry a lot on rainy days. I feel especially sad and lost on rainy days. I’m so tired. Tired of so much. Fake people. Nosy people. Lies. Loss. Sugar coating. Grief. Sadness. Tears. One bad thing, one hard thing, right after another. Never ending difficulty – physical, financial, emotional. No breaks. No relief. Just pain. Pain after pain after pain. And, ultimately, physically, no cure. No treatment. Just, “change your diet and you’ll feel better.” I won’t. I won’t feel better. Because changing my diet may bring relief to my body but I can’t imagine anything will ever bring true relief to my soul. Dead people don’t come back, and my soul will never not ache for her. 

Random rainy day self-loathing. It’s a bad day. Sorry, guys. My grandmama taught me if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all. But, well, I just needed to say all of that. Sometimes it’s too much to hold the pain in. To pretend you’re strong. To smile in the face of adversity and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Some say rainy days are the most cleansing. Maybe this is how the rainy days cleanse me. 

So, as I do on most ocassions when I can’t seem to get myself together, I went straight for my camera roll and reviewing/sorting my photography. As per usual, I came across things that soothed me. I came across things that moved me, that made me feel less wrong (is that even the right word?) for being so sad. I’m generally  pretty hard on myself about sucking it up and putting on the big girl panties and just pushing through, but today…I just needed gentleness. I needed to give myself permission to be whatever it was I felt like being. My soul was aching, and I needed to let that out. 

LUMIX gx7, 45-200 LUMIX lens, throwback to clear, purple skies. No filter. #rainydayblues.

I want to believe there’s a message in the stars. I want to believe that’s where you are. A tiny little dot of ancient light in the sky…is that where you went when you died? ✌️

There are some days, like today, when it all swallows me whole. And, I let it. I don’t fight it – not because I’m not strong enough but just because it feels better to give in. I just sink into it, and let it suffocate me. I hypervenilate through the memories and the tears. I try not to replay the nightmare parts but I can’t think of her without those parts, because that’s when she depended on me the most, and that’s when I was the most present with her. I miss her. I miss her so much… But, I don’t miss her being sick. I miss her, and my Dad. I miss Scrappy. I miss other friends… And on days like today it’s not the loneliness that gets me. It’s the permanence of the lack of their presence. That’s what gets me. They’re never coming back. I’ll never hear from them, or be able to speak to them, again. At least not until I’m dead – and I really don’t know what I believe about that anymore…

“It’s February 8. It’s raining. It’s not quite 11 months since you left us. Some days it feels like it happened five minutes ago. Today, it feels like it happened a million years ago. I listen to your voicemails so I don’t forget your voice. “Hey! It’s me. Call me AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS. Love you bye.” Sometimes you give me a hint what’s going on. Mostly, you just say that it’s you and I should call you asap and you love me. Those are my favorite ones – those are the most “you” ones. I miss you so much.

There is literally not a day that passes that I don’t think of you. Some days it’s all day long, like today. Some days, it’s randomly… But it’s every day. I’ll never not think of you. The stupidest things bring you to me, like Harvey’s Baptist Church. Ha. Sadly, it’s not even there anymore. But when I pass by, I still remember that sign and that moment…not to mention all the things that happened on the way. I wish there were better words than “I miss you,” but I miss you. So much.

I’m supposed to be writing this to say the things I’d say to you if you were here. Honestly, I wouldn’t say anything if you were here. I’d just hold you. I’d hold you really tight, and I’d just be quiet. If you were here I’d smile, and I’d just be near you, and I’d feel the warmth of your humanity and your presence, and I’d just be quiet and appreciate the gift of your existence, and that I got to have it mingle with my own. If you were here, I wouldn’t cry as much. I wouldn’t worry as much. I wouldn’t be as afraid. I don’t know why. I just know that those things are true.

What can I really write right now? I really fucking miss you. Some poetry, huh? I’m sorry I’m not more poetic now that you’re dead. It’s like…there’s really not any point. There’s simulatenously so much anger and so much sadness in me. I don’t KNOW how to express any of it most of the time – especially on these rainy days.

Except…

I love you, DB. For always…”

This little video clip is probably the most depressing yet cathartic thing I have ever posted. It won’t be to most anyone who watches it, but it is to me. It really does help me to write it out, to create things that either express or move my broken heart…

Many times, people tell me to stop. I can’t – I won’t – because it’s just what feels right for me. Never let anyone tell you to stop talking about them, stop bringing them up, let them go, get over it, or any of the things they may say to interfere with your grief. It’s YOURS. Your grief is your friend. No matter how long it’s been, you’re going to find yourself in moments of deep, excruciating grief, because that’s the reality of losing someone you love. 

You’re going to have days where you miss them more than you ever have, or perhaps ever thought you could. Nobody will ever understand, because nobody had the relationship that you had with the one you’ve lost. So you go ahead and do what you’ve gotta do, sweetheart. You go ahead and shed those tears and you go ahead and grieve. You go ahead and feel that emptiness in your soul. And don’t you ever forget that that hole inside of your soul now that they’re gone is worth every second, every breath, every laugh, every smile, every tear, and every memory that ever made them a part of your soul while they were here.

You are not alone. 🙏🏼💙❤️

And with that I bid adieu to you, friends. May tomorrow be better for us all…

Much love,

C.

3 thoughts on “On the Rainy Days…

  1. Yes you must live your pain. When my mom died I felt the same way and then I realized she’d be pissed if I died with her. I can live and feel the pain IN ADDITION TO living my life as she would have wanted. I talk to her and she talks to me. She’s physically gone, but always there when I need her

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ❤️🙏🏼 I’m sorry to read that you’re mom has physically died. Losing a parent is one of the most difficult things I’ve faced in my short life thus far – but it’s as you said. I am trying now to remind myself that my life thus far HAS been short compared to the life my father, and my beloved best girlfriend, lived. They would both want me to live what’s left of mine to the fullest, as they say. You’ve beautifully expressed that in your comment and I appreciate that reminder. It can’t come often enough. ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

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