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Rain

Rain has a very special meaning for me; it rained the day Wyatt died.  I remember the doctor calling on the morning of January 1st and telling us to come to the hospital.  It was raining as we ran to the car and from the parking garage of the hospital.  Dr. Peters approached us when we walked in the burn unit. Wyatt wasn't going to make it. This fight was too much for him; my warrior wasn't able to fight any longer.  I can see Dr. Peters kneeling down to talk to me while I sat on the floor, unable to breath, think, feel... how did we get to this place.  It's a surreal experience to know your only child is going to die and you have no power, no ability to change it, no say in the matter; powerless over the grip of death.  Mothers don't like to be powerless in matters of their children; mothers need to be in control, manage things, make sure everything is ok.  Not here, not in this place, there is no control, no management of death, one must succumb to the ultimate power of death.  Oh sure, we can fight, and fight he did, he fought like the warrior I raised, but death was too much for him; death always conquers life, young or old, strong or weak, death will win.


The rain covers me in memories, feelings, tears, and fears at the same time it embraces me in the memory of my son.  There is a bitter sweetness to the rain, I love it and fear it all the same; I long for it and I despise it; I dance with joy and wail with sorrow.  Today, it is the same, I feel the heaviness in my heart, the tears welling in my eyes all the time I know that Wyatt is talking to me, I feel it in the rain, that he is there.

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