Still raining
I still check the weather where he lived. Every day. I’ve got his town set on my Yahoo weather so I can see it at a glance. We often talked about the weather, the running joke being that the temp in Campbell had already exceeded the high forecast for the day by WeatherBug. It was uncanny, but it happened all the time. I was always surprised on the rare occasions when it was warmer there than here.
I checked the ‘Bug today to see the live weather cam, the same one I always used to check. I saw the same light I recognized on a sunny California day, but it upset me more than just seeing the temperature, or little icons indicating the forecast. Maybe because it was real, the photos. I can remember that light as clearly as if it were shining down on my face, feel the damp heat of Memorial Day all around me.
I had to turn it off, because my stomach was knotting up. I’m not sure why, other than I had this vague sense of the sad ridiculousness of checking the weather in a place he no longer was. He is not of any place now; he is everywhere. I wonder if he still cares about California per se. I’m sure he cares about those he loved that live there, but I doubt he cares about the weather there. So should I?
I know what it is; I’m desperately holding on to that time and place as it slips away from me. I know I’m unlikely to have any reason to go back there; even if I did, it would be terribly difficult, emotionally, to do so. But it was his home, and I just want to keep hold of it. Maybe the fact that I didn’t feel any comfort from checking his weather means I’m ready to let that bit go. I really don’t know. All I know is that the grief rollercoaster continues its up and down for me.