I'm back with another story about Jack. I don't know why, but his character really speaks to me right now. It's not much, just a little oneshot about how he's feeling right now (in my mind at least). What else can you do at 5:00 in the morning when you can't sleep and it's pouring outside? Oh, well. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
It's rained every day for a week now
It's rained every day for a week now. Everyone else is tired of it, but I like it. It seems like, even though the world keeps on turning around me, Mother Nature is telling me, "I feel your pain." It's silly, I know, to think there is some cosmic force out there reflecting the pain I have been feeling, but sometimes when that sky opens up I feel like maybe, just maybe, someone above is trying to tell me something.
I feel like Forrest Gump when I think about it, but this last week I have noticed all different kinds of rain. I know, I know, so many think, "Rain is rain," but it's not. There are categories of rain, not just for the National Weather Service, either. No…sometimes the rain that falls is so personal, such a reflection of what is happening to us, it's almost unnerving.
There's the blinding rain. The rain coming so fast and heavy you almost feel like you can't breathe when walking in it. No matter what you do when it rains like this, you can't escape it. It sucker punches you and engulfs you, and sometimes you wonder if you will ever be able to get dry. It's the kind of rain that, though it soaks you, you never feel fully clean after standing in it.
Then there's the rain that can't make up its mind. For awhile there is a brief, sudden downpour, and then the sky clears. Just as you think maybe it's safe to venture forth without an umbrella, here comes even more rain to soak you to the bone.
There's the deceptive rain. When the sky doesn't darken; it stays light outside, but it just opens up and sends the showers down to the unsuspecting people below. It's an unthreatening rain, just pounding enough to let you know its there, but unimposing enough to not mar the beauty of the day. This is the type of rain I can't stand, because at the end of it all, there's a rainbow. It represents hope and beauty, two things I can't see or appreciate at the moment.
Everyone else loves it when the rain stops and life can return to normal, but for me it leaves a hole and an ache behind that I can't explain.
I can't help but feel like all the different kinds of rain are a reflection of my life of late. I don't know what it represents yet, and I'm not sure I want to find out. I know water is meant to cleanse, but I can't help feeling this isn't what it's doing. Maybe it's a manifestation of all the pain and grief I haven't really let myself express since I let her walk out the door. I don't know what it means, but it brings me an odd sense of comfort.
But the best kind of rain, the kind of rain I like the best, comes at night. Just as you turn off the light, a downpour starts. I can hear the rain hitting the roof, furiously beating at the windows and it brings with it a flood of emotions (no pun intended) I can't or won't deal with in the light of day. It's oddly comforting, knowing that as I lay in complete silence, the rain is beating down on the world, telling it, "No, it's not okay. Things are not fine!" At least that means I don't have to do it. It's kind of a good cop/bad cop thing and I'm incredibly grateful to remain the calm and collected one. The best thing about it, though, is that I can stand outside in this rain and no one sees the tears that fall freely from my eyes.
It overwhelms you, the rain. I just worry about when it stops. When the rain stops, then I might actually have to face everything that has gone wrong in these few short months.
It's not just losing Angela; it's so much more than that. I guess it's the suddenness of it all. I thought everything was going fine (clearing up), and then all of a sudden, the floodgates open and there's another downpour. It's the pain of letting it all slip from my grasp once again. I thought it might kill me the first time, and it didn't. Now I'm just numb to it. The kind of numb you feel when it rains and you're so cold you can't feel anything anymore. Is it better that way? To feel the numbness, or the sharp sting of a sudden hailstorm beating down on you? I haven't decided yet.
I wish the rain had been around when Zach was veering so badly off course. If the blinding rain had been there, maybe I would have an excuse for not being able to see what was right in front of my face. Maybe I could have helped him…could have told him how much he meant to me. That we were more than co-workers. We were friends…hell, we were family. Instead, I kept my raincoat pulled firmly down over my eyes and never saw what was right in front of me.
It's a funny thing, the rain. It's something so simple, something that happens all the time. Most of us regard it with minor irritation and find it an object of annoyance. But sometimes, when you just watch it or listen to it or stand in it, you can't help but think about what it all really means.
Sometimes I want to hide from it; to sit inside and watch it soak everything around me. Sometimes I just want to go outside, raise my hands to the sky and let it all fall down on me. Hell, even though it's the complete opposite of how I'm feeling right now, sometimes I want do dance in it. Show whoever (though I know logically there's no one up there sending it down for me)…but whoever could maybe, possibly be up there that I'm thankful for the help. That, even though it can't last forever, it's what is getting me through right now.
It seems stupid to sit here and think about water falling from the sky. Hell, it might even make me sound a little bit crazy. But here I am, up in the early morning hours, listening to it continue, and I can't seem to think of anything else. It's a brief respite, I know, but for now, it's all I have.
Poor Jack :(. I'm sure he'd love some words of encouragement (aka reviews). ;)
