Sad times, strong people.
It's raining because he misses you. He's crying up in heaven because he wants to be with you.
Those words have been in my head ever since she said them. The first time it rained was the day of his funeral; the day mom-mom said that. There was so much going through my mind that day. So much was happening; little kids not knowing what is going on, everyone blaming each other, people crying, strangers acting like they know me. She was dressed in her old, black leather jacket she wore the last time we were laying red roses on a casket.
This isn't a time for laughing, or so I thought. Great uncle Billy tried to lighten the mood, saying who's next; little did he know he was just a few months later. The reason for the laughter, the children running, was for him. Everyone knew him like they were his best friends. He wouldn't want us to cry, he would want us to be happy. Even though it was only a thirteen-year gap he was like a dad to me. He thought the world was better off without him, he was so wrong. No one would have even imagined this would happen, no one wanted to. I may have only known him for nine years, but those nine years meant the world to me.
When I saw that little white card I said, "Today isn't August 26th." Danielle gave me such a weird look, and I wondered why but then I realized that was the day of his death. I complained about the kids running around I realize now I was also a kid, just had better knowledge of what happened. I wasn't completely ignorant, but ignorant enough.
This place was looking a little too familiar lately, and I hated it. People need to stay. These plots with no gravestones yet, the green grass covered with dirt, the road in between the two sides of this funeral place, that little building, was something I shouldn't have seen this often.
Mom-mom was so strong she didn't cry that day; she laid the rose on the shiny, black bed with her head held high comforting everyone around. I've always looked up to her, how she stayed so strong no matter how tough things got. She just knows to keep going even on the day she had to bury her husband, sister, brother, grandson, and now son. I knew this day was the hardest, burying your own son, your only son. The one she desperately wanted and went through four girls just to get him.
I hate seeing people cry. Seeing Danielle break down right in front of my eyes broke my heart. I know everyone was staying strong for me and all the other kids around, but mostly me. I didn't even look at mom that day. I stayed right by mom-moms side. We stuck together like glue.
Afterward, we all went to great-grandmoms, like always. All the kids went upstairs to the room with all the trophy and fitness stuff, but I stayed with mom-mom. We all spoke of the good memories of him, all the good times, all the stupid things he did, all the sweet things he did. We were honoring his remembrance, and we will keep doing that for years down the line. The new kids on the block will realize what he looks like before they know their sibling's names. They will know him like we did. The memories I have of him are so special to me, they always will be.
I've never been the religious type, partly due to my parents' lack of faith and partly because I've always had a grudge against God, for taking him away from me. I will always remember that day and every time it rains I think of those words, "It's raining because he misses you. He's crying up in heaven because he wants to be with you."