Her Storm

Do you hear that? The dulled crashing of rain on a thatched roof--the barrage of water suddenly drowning out the memories running through her head. She has been baking all morning in her small cottage home nestled amongst the pines, her thoughts on him again, but the unexpected downpour stole her attention away. She took the moment to appreciate the much needed interruption and allowed her mind to empty as she filled her senses with all that was around her; the air thick with the smell of warm yeast from the baking bread, the sound of the deep, rolling thunder in the distance, the gray sheets of rain battering her windows, and the cool, damp air clinging to her skin. It seems as if she can't help but have her mind on him lately, which only brings deep sadness. Even though it has been almost a decade, the ache in her chest has no concept of time. So, in the stillness of the storm, she allows herself to be carried away--savoring the peace that often eludes her. With her eyes closed she feels her mind drifting away only to be pulled back into reality when her kitchen timer alerts her that the bread is ready to come out of the oven. Usually the kitchen is where she feels the most free; where she disconnects from the noise and chaos of the world and connects with herself and the ingredients she meticulously brings together to produce something wonderful. Not today though. Today, even doing the thing she loves most couldn't stop the overwhelming emptiness she feels. Like a pit in her chest, a piece of her is missing--the piece that he took with him when he died. He was her rock, her comforter, the only one on her side most days, and now she finds it damn near impossible to fight for herself. As she pulls the bread out of the oven she wonders if she will ever find herself again--the self she was before he was gone. Deep in thought again, thunder crashes, causing her to jump and place the bread pan down harder than she intended. She smiles to herself, feeling a little foolish, when a flash of lightning knocks the power out, bringing a lifeless austerity to the usually welcoming home. In an attempt to bring a little warmth and energy back into the room, she lights a few candles and starts a fire in her wood burning stove. She then resigns to the power of the storm and decides that it has won this battle. In defeat she decides to use the opportunity to make herself as comfortable as possible until the storm passes. She sits in front of the stove, snuggled up in the worn blanket he gave her, and just as she draws in a deep breath her phone begins to buzz. Dread overcomes her when she sees who is calling, but she answers anyway. “Jane, what are you doing right now? This storm is a big one so make sure you have your emergency kit ready, oh and don't forget to make sure you are ready for the worst case scenario.” “What do you mean you're relaxing by the fire!?” “You should be more concerned and prepared for this storm.” As her mother drones on about everything she should be doing, the weight of always needing to be in control of everything sets in again. She no longer has the energy to stay awake after the phone call and as hard as she tries, sleep becomes her only option. It doesn’t take long for her thoughts to become incoherent and the dreams to take over. Had she known what was coming next, she would have fought harder to stay awake. She dreamt of him; even in a dream she knows he isn’t really there. She’s overcome with mixed emotions of wonderment, dread, happiness, and a profound sadness. He feels fragile, like he’s going to disappear at any moment, and she feels the overwhelming urge to warn him. He won’t listen though; he’s present and happily unaware of his impending doom. The emotions finally become too much and she wakes up with a knot in her throat and her phone going off yet again. This time it’s her aunt trying to reach her, and each text grows more impatient. She reluctantly hits the little green phone icon that always seems to possess an undue amount of pressure. Looking for the right response, she lands on the truth and explains to her aunt that she dozed off, naively hoping for sympathy. That, however, does not seem to exist in her family. “How on earth can you rest at a time like this” her aunt bellowed. “You really shouldn’t be so lazy, this is no way to handle the storm blowing through. You should be able to stay awake long enough to take care of yourself.” Feeling ashamed for falling asleep, she hangs up the phone and goes to the closet to find the emergency kit that sits in the same place it always has, untouched for years. As she unzips the bag, much to her surprise, she finds a folded up note. When she opens the paper she immediately recognizes the handwriting.

“My dearest Jane, if you find this, that means you have finally opened the emergency kit we put together. I hope that it is only to see what is inside and there isn't an actual emergency. Either way I want you to know that this kit may help some, but it is not what will solve the problem. Please remember that it is YOU who is truly prepared and capable to weather any storm that may come through your life. I bet that if you decided this bag was really necessary you would have used it a long time ago. And just know that however YOU decide to handle the situation is the right choice for you. Do not let anyone tell you how you “should” respond. You already know what is best for you my dear, not even I can tell you what to do, which I know ironically, I am doing now. Everyone responds differently, so no matter what your process looks like, just know that you've got this. Even if it doesn't seem that way, even if you feel like you are falling to pieces, it is all just steps to a victory, and try as they might, no one can tell you otherwise.” 

All she could manage after reading his letter was to clutch the endearing note to her chest and sob. Leave it to him to remind her of the strength that has always been there, even after he is gone. She knew it would take time, but in that moment--in the throes of the storm--she determined inside herself that today she would start taking steps to find that strength that has been lying dormant since he died. The first step, you may ask, is to lay down in front of the fire, wrap up in the worn blanket he gave her, and allow the storm to consume her until it passes.