Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Rain, Rain

I usually hate rainy days.  Unless you're in The Notebook, making out in a storm, the rain is not romantic.  It makes me moody (i.e., moodier than usual), and it makes even simple things (like grocery shopping) more difficult.  It makes people drive 5 mph as if they have blindfolds on.  It's messy.  It's gray.  But sometimes, it's a good excuse to be lazy, to be sad, to be pissed off at the world, and to let all the things you normally push out of your mind, seep in.  

Today, my mood matches the rain.  I know I'll be totally fine tomorrow.  I know later I'll read this blog and think how whiney I sound, how dramatic.  But today, I think this weather is perfect.  If it were sunny today, maybe I'd write about all the AMAZING things going on in my life.  My rapidly-approaching, beautiful wedding, the impending marriage to the man of my dreams, my adorable dog, my supportive family, my ethereal wedding gown, my less than 9 months of school before becoming an NP, my super fun friends who keep me smiling, my health. . . Yes, I have tons to be thankful for.  But let's be honest, no one really wants to read about that stuff.  And I'd be a liar if I said rainy days make me smile and think of how lucky I am. 

No, today is a blah day.  Today, I'm not going to feel guilty about feeling sorry for myself.  I feel like being sad, and I think I'm allowed to be.  Those who are close to me know there are a lot of things going on in my personal life, and today, for once, I'm not going to pretend that it's all easy.  

Rain makes me think of living in Manhattan.  You know, that other life of mine that wasn't too long ago, but seems like a lifetime ago.  Nothing is worse than trudging through city puddles of brown water.  I've come to believe that almost every single girl in Manhattan owns Hunter rain boots.  They are a necessity.  Out in Suffolk, I'm usually one of very few people wearing them . . . and sometimes I smile to myself, as if I know something they don't.  Pssh these people clearly never had walk through the West Village in a downpour.  These boots were my armor as I fought my way to the nearest Starbucks.  There was no hopping in the car to drive two blocks.  Ahh how 50 miles away can seem like worlds.  

Rain also makes me think of tears.  Obvious, right? But I mean, c'mon.  Had to throw that one in there.

I remember when Jon was sick, I prayed for rain.  I hated waking up in our shoebox bedroom to the sunshine. For a split second when I first opened my eyes and felt the sun on my face, it felt like everything was ok, until reality set in.  I remember being so angry that the sun was still shining even though he was dying.  It didn't seem right.  And during his burial, why was it sunny? Why wasn't it thundering, the way my body felt it should be.  Why wasn't it freezing? How could I feel this warm? How is it that the world lost someone so bright, yet the earth was still turning? I imagine anyone who ever lost someone (or endured the process of losing someone) can relate to these feelings. 

Because of what I've been through, I find my newest determination in life is doing everything I can so that the people I love never have to experience this.  I know how damaged parts of me are, and I just want to protect others from ever feeling these things.  From ever having to carry bad memories.  It's like a secret club I don't want to be a part of.  Sadly, add this to the list of things I cannot control.  

When Danny and I first started dating, believe it or not we talked about our losses.  He let me cry about Jon, while I listened to his experience losing his father.  Though very different, there was enough similarity that I believe, it brought us closer on a deeper level.  I would do anything to protect him from ever feeling anything even remotely like that again.  But I'm only human.  What I've learned over the years is that although there's little I can control, I'm really good at loving the crap out of people.  So that's what I'll do.  Just love him, more and more every day. . . that parts easy.  :) I like to think love forms a protective barrier.  That although it can't change what obstacles come our way, it can shield us, even if it's slightly, from the hurt and pain that life throws at us. 

I know that being loved is what got me through losing Jon. . . the love I knew he had for me surrounded me even in the toughest, hope-crushing moments.  My mom --  well that's another blog altogether -- but her love has always been a cushion from the blows of the world.  Countless others. . . I won't sit here and say "I wouldn't have survived" because, I would have.  I'm not a quitter.  But it would've been an even harder battle, and I'm not sure how well I would have come out on the other side.  

So love someone.  You never know when they'll need that little forcefield of protection.  Your love might make all the difference.  It just might be the thing that reminds them that, soon, it will stop raining.  

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