Moving Mountains (Patrick Kane)

A Rainy Day .8

Valerie

It rains quite a bit in the Midwest. We weren't in tornado alley all the way up here or anything like that but it still could get pretty bad. In the places I lived it rained at least 2 times a week on average. Sometimes it rains for days on end, sometimes the drought seems like it will never stop.

Today was one of those days you feel like you will never see the sun again. And it was fitting because it's been 23 years since my mom passed. She was struck by a distracted driver on the way to pick me up from school. I still remember that morning all too well. Everything seemed normal, I didn't know that it was going to be the start of everything going down hill. We ate breakfast together and I told her how excited I was to come home and pick a movie because it was finally my turn to decide what to watch for family movie night. Only we never saw a movie, and I didn't have another movie night again.

She was laid to rest in a cemetery not too far from where I grew up in Indiana. It was about a hour away from where I live now. Patrick was nice enough to take me out there as long as I promised to drive back. I was hoping that the rain would have stopped by then but there wasn't a single break in the clouds the entire ride here so I wasn't holding my breath.

I grab the flowers and Patrick grabs the umbrella. We walk out to where my mom was and it was also where my grandma was. I was able to get her a casket and get her buried, but I didn't get the headstone. Those were freakishly expensive and I was a 18 year old kid working at Panera when she passed. It was a miracle I even got her buried back here. There was no funereal service, just me trying to figure everything out. At least she gets to see her daughter again. I hope they are together.

I set the flowers down before kneeling next to the only people I ever truly loved. Good thing I wear black all the time so I didn't have to figure out what to wear today. Seemed pretty fitting if you ask me. The only color I ever wore was the gold necklace my grandma gave me.

I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder as the sniffles start to sound. Patrick never knew my grandma or my mom but he knew that they were the only thing in this world I would care to lose. And he knows that I turned out this way because they weren't around.

"What was your mom like" he whispers.

"She was a mystery to me. I mean I was four when she died so most people were. But her more than anyone. She was always smiling, through financial problems and my dad never helping out, she smiled. And it wasn't a fake one, she genuinely was happy. I never figured out why, I would have done whatever she did if I could find out what it was. But it remains a mystery to this day. How she was able to keep it together for me and my siblings for so long" I explain.

"Do you see your siblings" he questions.

"No. They're much older than me and they had already started their lives for the most part when mom passed. My dad thought they would be better staying in Indiana with his side of the family. My grandma fought for me so I got moved to Illinois. I don't think they have been back here since the funeral. The only times I was here was if I took a Uber which is crazy expensive. But it's worth it" I admit.

"I think she would be proud of you" he claims.

"She would be furious with me. This is not the life she wanted me to have. It's not like she had my life picked out for me. She wasn't that type of mom. But she still would want more for me. Not to push everyone away, not to look into this world through the lens of a pessimist. All she wanted was for her kids to be happy, and little did she know the day she died was when my happiness went too" I sigh.

"But I think she would look at all you do for others and smile that smile of hers. She would see the lives you touch, the people you've helped along the way. She wouldn't want you to be alone but she would be happy of the way you help people by not handing them what they need, but the tools to keep getting better as well" he says.

"Thanks" I sniffle.

I fall to my knees as the tears start to fall. It's been over two decades and I still don't know how to make it by without my mom. I think about her every day. Ways to make her proud. The truth is I will never know if she would be proud of me. If the way I decided to carry on in her absence was the right thing to do. I've made mistakes, I was a ass to my grandma the first few years and I resent my father and my siblings for leaving. This certainly wasn't the outcome she wanted but the journey was filled with people helping me along the way and a few memories I hope will stay.

Patrick suddenly grabs the back of my head and pulls me into his embrace. I sit there in his arms as the tears fall. My head resting on his chest as I listen to his heart beat. What a beautiful sound it was. I would do anything to keep that heart beating. I would never tell him but he is the first person since my grandma I was afraid to lose.

After a while we head back. I drive the back roads working on speed management and breaking. Patrick turns off the music because he knows I like it better that way. Especially when I'm focused on driving. I try and choke back the tears so I can watch the road but it feels like the only thing to release this pain was to cry.

"Is there anyone besides your family who would visit your moms grave" he wonders. There was flowers on the headstone so I'm not sure who put them there.

"Not that I can think of. Maybe one of her siblings or coworkers. A friend" I shrug.

"Maybe it was someone you knew" he tries.

"Not many of the people I grew up with knew about my mom. I had a friend who knew about her. Not well, only knew her from stories and pictures, but she was the only person who saw and heard about her after I moved. She was a good friend, she was funny and out going, opposite of me. We hung out after school as we waited for our rides to pick us up playing games and making art projects. Had friendship bracelets and even got to have a joint birthday party because our birthdays were just a few day apart. We met in grade school and she stayed by my side until the end. She lived a few blocks down from my grandparents and was the only person who didn't ignore me once I was moved to Chicago.

Then one day it was over. Years of friendship was gone in a flash. There was no fight, no falling out. She was just gone, out of my life. I can still feel her fingerprints where she's touched my heart. Think back to the times she would pick me up after life knocked me to the ground again. She just... never talked to me again. I tried. I texted and called. Even reached out to her family. Every effort was met with a wall. With silence.

And it hurt. More than I would ever admit. You open yourself up to someone and they can be out of your life and you didn't even notice until it was too late" I say.

"I'm sorry you went through that. I don't know why people do those kinds of things. Especially when you've done nothing wrong.

But something you told me when we met has stuck in my head since that day. It was when you pointed out that I was surrounded by people and still felt alone. I realized that being surrounded by people doesn't mean I'm liked, or that I like them. I just didn't want to be by myself but I never felt so lonely.

I think that I would rather be alone, not lying to myself and others about wanting to be around them, than be surrounded by people I don't care about and who don't care about me.

Of course this is a little different because you did care about her. And it sucks because you open yourself up for them to walk away with that piece of you and not leave anything behind, it hurts.

Don't you think you're better off with someone else? No one deserves to be someone's side piece. Not as a friend or more" he admits.

"I guess you're right. But going through stuff like that alone is just as hard" I sigh.