And the Rain Came

Finally. It is raining. And it appears that it wants to make up for lost time. Since Kelsey's death, the heat has been unrelenting. The car read 106 on Sunday. Yesterday was the comparatively temperate 99. Pool water felt like bath water, and the grass and plants cooked in the unblinking sun. Now, I'm sitting on my back porch watching rain pound down. The thunder is almost like an angry yell directly over my head. Finally the heavens seem to be crying the tears I feel like crying, but haven't been able to. This feels like what weather to properly mourn by should be.

I bought a book on grieving yesterday, not that I expect it to help me all that much. I'm not sure there's really too much that words on a page can do to mitigate the thoughts in one's head or the ache in their heart, the emptiness of a house, or the silent accusation of the things sitting unused in a room. But, it had a chapter on dealing with the siblings of dead children, so I got it because that's my biggest concern right now; how to make sure we don't let our only remaining child slide down some rabbit hole. She's worked so hard to pull herself out of more than one to begin with, but it would be very easy to give up on all that hard work and take refuge in drugs, alcohol, her own eating issues, or some other new, unforeseen dysfunction. According to the book I have reason to be concerned. There were a litany of stories of surviving siblings who developed a host of issues following the death of a brother or sister. And the tales of shattered relationships with parents who ignored their kid(s) by becoming lost in their own grief or smothered them by becoming paranoid and overprotective were numerous and frightening. I thought back to my Wisconsin cousins who lost their brother in Vietnam. Two of the three sisters lost themselves in a bottle that they never climbed out of, and Jimmy died in 1968. Seemingly, I have some thin ice to navigate here. Problem is; I'd rather just curl up and not do much of anything, and tackling something that huge seems a little beyond me.

Speaking of which, there is all the business of wrapping up a life to attend to still, none of which I have the energy to try and tackle. I have to deal with her phone, a storage unit, her car and insurance, the stuff she had at her boyfriends, the thank yous, and the trickling notifications when people call or e-mail who haven't heard. Even a young life is complicated to wrap up and put away. I know I just have to take it slowly, not expect too much from myself and allow myself some leeway when not everything gets done right when it should, but at some point, life won't allow me that luxury any longer. Already the tasks of dealing with Mother's laundry, setting appointments for her and paying her bills as pulled me out of the stupor I'd rather be in. Maybe that's a good thing. Today, it doesn't seem that way. So, I'm happy for the rain. I'll hide behind it for a while and let it do my crying for me while I try and sort of all this out.