The Rain Approaches

The clouds were a shifting shadow, slowly crawling across the sky to hold it in its entirety. The land beneath them reflected their darkness wherever they spread. There were fewer and fewer lighted patches remaining and soon no place would be untouched.

“The time is coming. The sky will soon be consumed and begin its weeping.”

“Why does the sky weep?”

“Because you are hidden.”





Her fingers traced the contours of his old face with feather-light touches. He was older now, but so was she. She recalled being very small and sitting on his lap with her fingers traversing his face in a similar manner. While his expression could hardly have been considered light, it was most definitely lighter then than it was now. There were fewer wrinkles and his twinkling eyes had darker, bushier, and trimmer eyebrows to peak out from. There were also fewer age spots despite his age; she had thought it was because his skin was as stubborn as he was. He was clean, he was always clean, yet when she leaned closer there was a scent on him that was not of soap and did not emanate from him; yet it was entirely his own.

It was peaceful and comforting to have the denim wrinkles that were soft from use underneath her childish legs and the strong, deeply tanned arm supporting her back. She was so at ease, in fact, that she let her guard down enough to give into the temptation of playing with the flap of his ear between her fingers. Exhaustion and plaguing thoughts had wiped the humorous smile he normally wore from his face. But at the small display of innocence, curiosity, and playfulness the corners of his mouth twitched as if yearning to regain their full, handsome smile. The subtle mirth and wonder in her eyes as she wiggled the flap disappeared as a patch of light caught her eye. Actually, it was not the light that was distracting, it was the dark that was where the light was supposed to be.

Her frail body drew almost imperceptibly closer to her grandfather. He followed her gaze and she asked him where the sun had gone and why the shadows were creeping closer. It was too early for night. She wondered if they were demons that were coming to get them and he replied that they were not. Her gaze travelled to the sky only to find that it was disappearing along with the light. The clouds were a shifting shadow, slowly crawling across the sky to hold it in its entirety. The land beneath them reflected their darkness wherever they spread. There were fewer and fewer lighted patches remaining and soon no place would be untouched.

“The time is coming. The sky will soon be consumed and begin its weeping.”

“Why does the sky weep?”

“Because you are hidden.”

His eyes had been somber then and she had known how much he loved her. His words had never been fancy and he had rarely verbally acknowledged the bond between himself and his loved ones. But when he had, it was known that it was meaningful. She supposed that sometimes words cluttered things and that it was the wise man who held his tongue. Limited speech did not limit gaiety, humor, or communication as one would expect. Rather ironically, she had found that unlimited speech proved to be a more restricting factor. He had taught her that through his life and his manner. He had also always been clean, polite, strong, responsible, and merry. His sense of duty and vivacity for life were unparalleled and his presence had a majesty of its own.

The need to tell the world of his existence compelled her to accept a slot at the podium; the need to uphold the integrity of his memory kept her from speaking. It would be a crude and artificial imitation of a great masterpiece if she tried to sum him up before a crowd of people. As she had walked up to her place, she had held a semi-written speech in her hand. A solemn tear escaped the walls of the dam she had built. It travelled down her cheek and the memory rushed back to her unbidden. Oddly enough, it still carried the same comforting feelings and did not intensify the pain.

“My grandfather was the greatest man I have ever known. The earth mourns his passing. But, though he may be hidden from us now, and we may weep, one day we’ll find him again.”



         It was still pain. It was still unimaginable pain, but now she saw him through it. He was still carried in her memories and in her heart. She knew that he would resurface and would do so often. And she knew that his existence had been a full one. And she knew that he loved her. And when it came down to it, she had no regret.

Her fingers ghosted above the old, old face of the man she respected and continued to consider a hero. The clouds seemed to drop closer, if that were even possible, and there was a visible breeze blowing through the trees outside.