The Smell of Rain

I’ve always loved the smell of rain. I feel so tranquil when I do. The whole world becomes peaceful and quiet. All other noise gets blocked out and distant and all I can hear is the pitta-patta of each drop.

The rain has been with me every day something amazing or horrifying has happened. It rained when I  was born. It rained when I got my first A in school. It rained when I got my dog Cyndie and it rained when she died. It rained when I got my first D in school. And it rained when I was diagnosed with stage 4 brain cancer just over 3 months ago.

I didn’t pay much attention to what anyone was saying on the day of my diagnosis. I was more focused on the rain. I understood that I didn’t have much longer to live, so I tried to savour that rain.

It’s been a while since I heard my sweet rain. The closest thing to it is when I hear my dad cry next to my hospital bed after he thinks I’ve gone to sleep. Pitta-patta pitta-patta. It echoes in my empty room.

He isn’t doing it now though. It’s nice. 

I start feeling funny though. Not like when Cyndie chased her little tail but when she wasn’t home after school and my dad sat me down and it started to rain. I felt funny.

I hear my dad scream for a Doctor. Though after that everything becomes distant and I hear my sweet rain. Slowly, everything starts fading. Even the rain. I stop... and I think for only a moment. Then I try to smell one last time.

I’ve always loved the smell of rain.

- TJ