sadness and rain

In movies and books, when someone is deeply sad or mourning the passing of a loved one, rain is a close companion. Happy days come with warm, shining suns.

I'm a May baby, so it frequently rains on my birthday. And I don't know that I've ever been to a funeral at which I needed an umbrella. Until today.

I got an email this morning that a coworker's husband had passed away. I don't work with this woman directly, but she has a special place in my heart. She worked at my old job when I was an intern. And every time I talk to her she makes me smile and laugh and feel a little more at ease with the fact that the world is a messed up place.

I only met her husband a handful of times. They rode motorcycles across the country. He was the type who would be the first to offer to help you move or repair you fence.

Two weeks ago when I was busy getting ready to go to my conference, he was diagnosed with cancer. I didn't know. After my week in Vegas, I realized I hadn't seen her for a while. But we work on different floors, and our work doesn't overlap. Maybe she was on vacation. I didn't know.

He was 63. They had been married for 42 years. They had two weeks to say goodbye. Two weeks. My heart aches with sadness.