Rainstorm

July 29, 2020

It was 2 weeks since I had delivered Milo, and my body was still flowing with pregnancy hormones. I was feeling emotional and wanted to commemorate Milo’s memory by doing something special. My husband and I went for a drive just before dusk, and decided to see the sun set by the water. Unfortunately, it was very cloudy that day and the scenery wasn’t as clear as I would’ve liked. I suggested we take a drive a little further into town, remaining close by the water. My husband was a little reluctant but decided to entertain the idea. It was dark and muggy, and there was a smell of the anticipation of rain in the air. As we parked near a park by the water, we heard music in the distance, and began walking towards a small group of people who appeared to be dancing the tango. I thought it was strange that people would gather by the water for a dance party. It had reminded me of a scenery my husband and I had seen on our trip to Italy a couple of years ago. In comparison to that moment, this one was a lot gloomier. Looking for tranquility, we had decided to walk in the opposite direction from the crowd. We ended up finding a quiet secluded deck area sitting on the water.

“How perfect is this?” I proclaimed.

There were some wet benches from the rain earlier that afternoon. We stood on the deck holding each other, thinking about Milo, missing him dearly. It was approximately 9:40pm, and I thought how nice it would be if we sat there, staring at the stars and moon together. Since Milo was born 10:37pm, I wanted to commemorate him by spending our evening on the quiet and isolated deck until his time of birth. I’m not a person who believes that things happen for a reason; but I do like to put my own meaning into special moments like those.

Moments later, we started to feel drops of rain. I thought it would pass, as it had been drizzling on and off all day. Suddenly, it had began raining a little harder. My husband and I decided we should probably head home, and so we left our perfect moment behind. As we headed towards the car, we passed the dance floor where the dancers had now dispersed and gone home. The rain began coming down aggressively and our car was too far to make a run for it. We decided to take refuge under the dance port, since it had a roof covering. A couple other people had the same idea, and we all patiently stood there waiting for the storm to pass. We figured that since it began raining hard, it wouldn’t last too much longer. Instead, the rainstorm turned into a mini hurricane, and we were stuck in the middle of it. The wind was pushing the rain towards us, so we had to stand in the center middle of the port, to avoid getting drenched. It was cold, I was tired, and my idea of commemorating Milo turned into quite a disaster. Several minutes passed, and still the rain had not let out.

Over the waterfront sat the moon, big and bright as ever. I was memorized by its size, and as I stood there staring at it, I thought this is exactly what my life has felt like: Standing around helplessly, waiting for the storm to pass. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I imagined all the love I had for Milo (and still have), and I dreamt up what he would have looked like, who he would have become. As I opened my eyes. my husband broke my memorizing moment.

“Can you check the time? I think the rain is slowing down a little,” he asked.

It was 10:30pm and the rain was still coming down hard but definitely showed signs of slowing down. As we waited a little longer, my husband noticed the moon too. I felt grateful for it, as it served as a distraction, and for me especially, it reflected everything I had dreamed of for our little family. For a fraction of a moment, I was in awe with its beauty, almost as much as I was when Milo was born.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” my husband proclaimed.

“It’s all I can look at” I replied half-smiling.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrate from a text message. I reached into my purse and pulled my phone out and read my friend’s text, who asked if we had gotten home safe from the rainstorm. I replied that we hadn’t, and that we got caught right in the middle of it, but that it wasn’t an entirely bad experience.

“The rain stopped. We should probably head to the car now”, my husband instructed.

I looked around and nodded with agreement. As I put my phone back into my purse, I glimpsed at the time and it read 10:37pm. That exact moment, the rain had stopped. That exact moment, 2 weeks ago, Milo was also born. My heart felt heavy and full of emotion. It’s almost as if Milo was guiding me home, telling me everything will be okay. With teary eyes, I took one last look at the big bright moon, turned around and headed to the car.

That night I learned that heavy storms do pass, the rain will stop, and the moon will always be there as a guiding light. As I mentioned, I don’t believe in “signs” or that “things happen for a reason”, but that moment was so meaningful to me, a complete parallel to my life. A bad tragedy that will follow me anywhere I go, like a rain cloud on stormy night. With all the triggers, disappointments, and overwhelming moments, the memory of Milo helps ground me; brings me back to where I need to be. That alone, was worth standing in the rain for.