It Feels Like It's Raining All Over The World

Last night was visitation at the church. Today at 2:00 we bury our Pastor. You know, I've still not said the words out loud.

I've told three people (at work) that I had a funeral to go to. Two of these people knew the situation and knew who's immediately. The other was my boss and I only told him because I took the entire day off. Tuesday, the day he died, I had a banquet to attend for the child care providers in the area. It started at 6:00 and I don't even get off work until 5:00 and Val didn't get off work until 5:35. She and Linda rode to Miami with me. My Mom called me with the news of his death between the time I got home and the time I left again for the banquet. But, I sucked it up, held it all in, and tried to make myself appear "normal". I didn't want to ruin the evening for everybody so I kept it to myself. I also didn't want people to think that I expected hugs and pats and stuff like that. That is the last thing in the world I would have wanted. I'm not much on the touchy feely type stuff. The following day, Wednesday, as soon as Valerie got to work, her and Linda were in my room and I said "Well, girls, it looks like I'll be going to his funeral on Friday." Valerie just gasped and Linda stood there not knowing what to do or say. That day was the worst. It rained all day and it rained hard. It looked and felt outside the same way I felt on the inside. Like it was raining all over the world. I cried off and on throughout the entire day. Never in front of people, I didn't want to make others uncomfortable and embarrass myself. Thankfully, with this job, I get plenty of alone time. And everybody seemed to catch on real quick that I needed some space and kept their distance. At one point, I was washing dishes and this song came on the radio that was perfect for the way I was feeling. It sounded kind of monkish. Not Monkish, like the USA TV show Monk. We'll save those feelings for another day. But, like temple monks, monkish. It sounded very melancholy and brought about the feeling of someone unleashing their soul of bitter pain. I broke down and cried and cried over that sink of soapy water. The song lasted quite a while, some of those songs on NPR can last up to 45 minutes or longer. When it was over, the DJ said the name of it and I immediately went and wrote it down. I didn't catch who it was performing it, but I know I can call and ask them about it or send them an email and they will help me. The name? "In great distress I call out to You" How fitting, I thought.

Yesterday morning it was cold in the house so I thought I'd take a nice long hot bath. I've got the water running getting ready to get in and the phone rings. It's 6:55, who would be calling other than Mom or Mike? I answer it and it's my cousin Mitchell. Huh? I gave him Mike's cell number (after a split second thought of telling him no, Mike couldn't come out to play today or for the next few days) and went back to the bathroom and climbed into the tub. I was relaxing, reading a 13 year old Mary Higgins Clark book that I'd never read and the phone rings again. "It's Mike this time," I think to myself, and didn't move from my position in the steamy water. Fifteen minutes later the phone rings again. Good golly! He doesn't give up, does he? So, I climbed out of the tub and answer the phone. Sure enough, it's Mike. He says he is going to skip work and go on the "pig trail" with Mitchell and asked me to bring him a different shirt when I go to work and if he was still around he would stop and get it. The pig trail is a bike ride down in the mountains of Arkansas. They call it that because of the wild razorback pigs found in the area. I mentioned the visitation being that night and he said he would maybe make it back maybe not. He'd just have to see what happened. I got off the phone and climbed back into the tub. But this time I couldn't seem to relax. I cried and cried some more. I needed Mike the other night and he wasn't there for me. I need him more now than I did then, is he going to brush me off once again to go riding with Mitchell, again? So, I got out of the tub, went straight to the phone and called his cell. I got his voice mail and I left a shaky voice mail. I said to him "Babe? You tell me all the time that you aren't a mind reader and to tell you what I want. This is what I want. Visitation is at 6:00 tonight and I really need you there with me. Please be there by 6:00." I got ready for work, I went to work, he never came by to pick up the shirt and I was left wondering if he got my message. I wasn't going to call again. At 4:00 he called. He told me that he got my message and he would meet me there at 6:00.

Because Mike had to make it a "short" day (they only rode 305 miles in eight hours) they all made it a short day. Hardly any stopping, and all riding. They only stopped at one bar and that was around 1:00 and Mike drank a Coke. On my way to the church, I met both his riding buddies and I waved at them and neither one waved back at me. They either didn't recognize my car or they were ticked that I ruined their day. Mike told me later last night that he got my message at 10:30 in the morning and they were filling up in Jay. Not too far from home. He asked how long it was going to take and I guess if it was going to take too long he was going to have to tell them he couldn't go. Oh, I can hear the martyrdom in his voice now if he wouldn't have been able to go! One guy asked him if it would be a matter of divorce if he blew me off and Mike told them no, not divorce, but it wouldn't be good at home for a long, long time if he did. Then he told them what the deal was and the guy said "It amazes me what great lengths people go through to ruin your day. Just up and die like that so you can't have a good day." Have I ever mentioned that I loath Mike's riding buddies? That comment right there cinched it for me. And one of them is my very own first cousin. Who says you have to like your entire family?

Mike made it by 5:39, he pulled into the church parking lot right behind us. His face was as red as a radish. Except where his do-rag was covering his forehead and his glasses were covering his eyes. They were still white. I don't know how many people commented on it at the church. I saw so many people that I remembered from when I was a little girl. Names would escape my memory, but I recognized their faces. Some of them remembered me and we spoke and when they'd see Shael they would be amazed at how she looks like me. By the end of the evening Shael was complaining that she was sick of hearing that she looked just like her Mom. As we were walking out I told her "At least people aren't saying you look just like your brother because that's what I always heard when I was your age". We went on to McDonald's for a bite to eat (my yearly quota has been filled, I feel I shouldn't be forced to eat there for another 12 months) and Mike went to the bathroom to wash up before eating. He came back and said "MAN! Now I know what everybody was talking about! I looked up in the mirror and said 'WHOA! Now, that's freaky!'" I didn't know he didn't realize what he looked like. Like an American flag without the blue and the stars. Just red and white stripes. Yeah. That is freaky.