Tears from Heaven

I don’t like rain. It wreaks of abandonment, despair and sorrow. As I sit here near my window I feel like crying with these clouds. Rain brings back far too many painful memories for me to swallow. Some hard for me to share with dignity, others just events I like to never touch again out of fear.

Walking back home barefoot was not a good idea. It feels cold and tingly at first but then my feet froze and now they have lacerations on their base. Sometimes in life it is the absence and not presence of things which brings about a change. The presence of shoes, for example, or Like being a child sitting by the rainy midnight window, waiting for a mother to come back home. A mother who’s five hours late, and a child who’s four – who just learned how to read the clock, convinced her mother is dead.

A few howling nights like those…waiting and waiting endlessly. That’s when you need a father, or a sibling to look up to. An elder brother who is so active he drains you out by night and you’re fast asleep, not waiting by the window for the bread-winner to come home.

A father, so someone can take care of the call to 911, and put the child where she belongs – in bed. Someone who will take care of an ailing grandmother so that the four year old doesn’t have to entertain that thought in case of her mother’s demise.

Absence changes lives. It is hollow and so endless, so consuming in nature. The absence of friends and the habit of talking to yourself. The absence of people in times of need. Absence means abandonment. Estrangement.

I look out and I see a world I don’t feel a part of anymore. There are days I sit here, convinced this is not me. This is not my home, and this is not where I am meant to be. This place is visible, but I cannot touch it. There is no sense of realism or truth in my life anymore. Maybe I have given up, much like these weeping clouds, or maybe this is what they call sanity…so mundane yet so prolonged and annoying. So much time and so much dust.

What difference does the rain make, when it is always gloomy inside of you. When happiness never touches your soul, you know that nothing on the exterior matters. If your heart hasn’t lighten up in a while, it’s possible that you are already dead and have successfully escaped the anguish that we all call “living.”

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