They often say that when it rains, it pours, so should it really have come as much of a shock that on a cloudy rainy Thursday, after grandpas testing, he and grandma were given the news- its not one brain tumor-its four, and lung cancer too? Possibly not, but the moment I heard it shattered my heart into a million pieces that promptly fell into the pit of my stomach, creating a hollow sickness no ginger ale would cure.
I was angry, not with grandpa, not with grandma, not an anyone—just angry. I'd be lying if I said I didn't shout and argue with the silence around me in the car on my way into work this morning—Sadly, I think the silence won.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that my eyes are red with the strain of holding back tears, and that in their weak tired state, they're losing the battle as the tears overflow.
When it rains, it pours.
I'd be lying if I said that grandma and grandpa aren’t at peace, with grandpas health, with god.
Last week grandpa showed me strength beyond belief when it rained. This week as the rain pours outside my window and falls on my heart, grandma and grandpa are overflowing with peace—so much in fact, that I was taken aback when I spoke with them yesterday.
They would not allow anger or sadness in their midst, as grandma still held the upbeat tone in her bronchitis ridden voice and grandpa spoke of God preparing his home in heaven, joking to me that He's probably finishing up the insulation before God calls him home.
When it rained, it poured—Last week grandpa showered those around him with his strength beyond belief, and as our family weathers this storm- in the midst of the pouring rain grandma and grandpa are overflowing with peace, tranquility, love and understanding, as grandma and grandpa both seemingly throw on their rubber boots, and in an act of their own bravery decide,
“Well—if it’s raining, we may as well go play in the puddles until the storm passes.”