The sky is crying

I took a picture of the mint I have growing in my backyard today. Just a few weeks ago it was thriving, big and beautiful, with fragrant leaves. I never thought it was possible to kill mint. It always seemed so invasive, so impervious to its surroundings. But the rain hasn’t stopped for weeks, and the mint is dying. Waterlogged to its roots. Rotting at its core.

That sounds all too familiar. There are more days than not that I feel just like that mint. The tears don’t stop, there is no blooming happening in my heart. My soul feels void of joy most days, just as the plants have been void of sunshine. I am waterlogged from grief.

I’m not at the end of my rope. My hope for better days is intact. I fill my days with work and my weekends as best I can. But there’s still every night alone, lying in bed listening to the rain. My Joe brought me joy every day and now he doesn’t. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. I know this will get easier as time goes on. I’ll figure out how to carry my grief better.

But for now I’m like the mint. Drowning in these relentless storms, one after another, begging for the sky to stop crying.