The night Stevie died it rained. It had been unusually hot all week, you could feel summer approaching but that night it rained. I stood under it the warm drops from the sky mixing with the warm tears falling from my eyes, from my soul. I wanted it to be her, I wanted to stand there all night with my head thrown back and drink her in, drown in my love for her.

Stevie and I once talked about how we wanted our funerals, why we were doing this I have no idea, I think we had read the same book or watched a movie together and it was part of the discussion we were having. I told her I wanted a sad funeral, mournful, no bright colors and celebrations of life, I wanted to be missed, I wanted to matter. She said she wanted it to rain, and have big black umbrellas at the grave. She also wanted wailing and yellow tulips.

She got rain, and four hundred yellow tulips.

Today the sky is threatening to burst. It is grey outside and the clouds are heavy and low, pregnant with water, and my tears.

I asked for one thing, and I am getting rain...it isn't enough.

Rain is impressive but I want God to rip open the sky and show me...I want him to say, "I am here and she is here with me. We will see you in sixty years now relax and write a damn book or Sculpt something, enough of this incessant crying"

I would be the happiest person who breaths air.

I guess I need to sit under this darkening sky and hold onto what I have.

I guess what I have is what she left me.

What she left me is love and rain.