Sleeping In Rain

My umbrella stops the rain from drenching my upper body, but has no effect on the slow, warm streams gliding down my cheeks. My shoes absorb the mud, like sponges, as I tread on in this endless journey.
In these past few days, I have changed more than I have in my entire life, and as of today I wear an internal scar, that will be at all times visible, for the rest of my days. This is the first blemish in my glamorous life.
Almost suddenly, we reach our destination and come to a halt. I can hear the grief. I want to turn back. I do not yearn to witness my only brother in a sleep from which he will never awake, dreaming dreams I will never know the tale.
My thoughts are selfish. Yes, we mourn, but why? No longer must he encounter stress nor endure pain. He does not have to ponder over how much longer his journey in this world will be. He is at rest. He is peaceful, is he not?
“We will all miss him dearly,” I hear my uncle say, and with this, we bow our heads. I have paid hardly any mind since Tuesday when my mother called me at my place of work. “Nathan’s been in an accident,” she said. “We’re all at St. Francis hospital.”
Nathan, four years older than I, has always been my loving, protective brother. He has always been my inspiration. It was he who pushed me to be my best. It was Nathan who forced me to excel, without even meaning to.
When I arrived at the hospital, I pictured Nathan in his room; strong, blond, muscular Nathan. While they had us sit anxiously in the waiting room, I recalled the last conversation we had. It was about Mother’s Day. He told me, he would buy her a diamond bracelet, if I would cook. He wanted to have everyone over to his new house to meet his new girlfriend, Delilah. She would be at my side if I needed any help with the dinner. If I would’ve known this would be the final time I spoke with my brother, I would’ve said something more meaningful than, “Okie doke, Ardichokie.”
My father pulls me from my daze as he wraps his arm around me and leads me to the car. As a “family” we leave the grave yard, never to see my brother again.
The drive is long and slow but at last we arrive at my ratty, old apartment buildings. As we pull up, mom offers to come inside, but I’d rather be alone. I kiss them goodbye and walk towards the stairs, while my face regains it moisture. I care not if my hair is ruined, what my make up looks like, or any of my normal, conceited thoughts.
Unlocking the door, I notice a note innocently placed on the table, it reads, “Noelle, I’m here if you need to talk. Things will get better, my love. Sincerely, Mark.” It brings back a smile to my sorrowed face. I’ll call him later. Now I want to sleep.
I take off my shoes and climb into bed. I close my eyes on this new beginning and realize there are more to come, far too many than I will ever be prepared to endure.