Rain on a Sunny Day

On a recent spring day, I made a stop at a small cemetery I have been wanting to visit. I find cemeteries fascinating...full of history, art, beauty and peace. As I walk among those resting beneath the fertile ground, I imagine the lives of those whose names are carved into the cold stone and the stories that died with them.
I have no personal connection to anyone whose name is displayed on a grave marker here. There is no one who rests in these sacred grounds familiar to me. I know though, there is no need for familiarity and connection to understand the pain of loss.

His car pulled alongside the gravesite just a few feet beyond where I was standing. As he exited his car and walked across the gravel to the soft grass bordering the road, his hand rose in a gentle wave toward the dappled grey stone. It was as if someone was expecting this elderly gentleman and he knew it.


I saw his lips begin to move as he gazed intently upon the cold, hard granite before him...conversing with whoever lay beneath this marker. He was smiling as he talked. His eyes focused and intent. His face full of love and compassion. My heart felt as if it were going to explode...tears made their way down my windblown cheeks. I struggled to breathe as sobs escaped me only to disappeared into the wind. I found myself grieving for myself: Will anyone stand at my grave and love me like that when I am gone?


But then the strangest thing happened...it began to rain. As I gazed toward the heavens, the sky was crystal blue. There was not a cloud to be seen anywhere around me. It was completely clear...yet there were definitely raindrops falling on my head. The grave stones were getting wet. The ground had begun to show a pattern of small wet circles as the raindrops fell. The heavens were grieving with me.

And then, as quickly as it began...it stopped. The sky maintained its beautiful crystal blue hue. And still there was not a single cloud around me, not one. The tears had stopped falling…and so had mine.