Lessons Learned

the sun

The sun was bright on the day you died.
And I wasn't sure why -
maybe God didn't get the memo
and your accident was an accident
ten, twenty, thirty years before its time
or maybe
it was his final farewell
to etch your personality in the sky
because he knew
nothing would make you happier
than having all eyes on you.

The sun was fading when I got the call.
I had just finished complaining
about the shut down road
impeding my route to work on a day
where I was running uncharacteristically late,
and I couldn't help but wonder
if maybe it was fate
or divine intervention,
because if I had seen your car
on the street next to mine
just an hour before
turned to scraps and metal
with gallons of fuel in the fray
I think God knew there might have been
more than one accident that day.

The sun was drowned in clouds of rain
the day we mourned you.
I hadn't shed very many tears in those two weeks,
so imagine my surprise
when I stepped outside
on my way to say goodbye,
and water droplets began to pour from the sky,
erasing the ones coming from my eyes.
For a moment I thought
"Even the angels are crying for you"
but even then I knew
it wasn't angels or God
trying to get through to me,
it was the one person I'd been longing to see
who could stop me in my place with a look
or turn tears of pain into tears of laughter
reminding me that the time for tears was done,
and as my heart come out from behind
its cloud of sadness,
so did the sun.