My father was thirty eight when he died
I was barely seven
Mother took me to Spain to ease the pain
Help the healing and never forget
His death had crushed her heart
Part of mine too at the time
The soft white sand slipped through our toes
The cloudy night covered the stars
Transformed them into lost diamonds in the dark
My sunburnt skin itchy beneath my souvenir shirt
And then the rain came straight from the heavens
Her sad face and wet hair a sight I would never forget
I found a tiny shell and she held my hand
The castaway clasped between our palms
A momento mori of what was to come
For mother and son
For years after she would take me walking in the rain
Walking in the rain with Elaine we would sing
Just like the song
The tiny shiny shell always came too
Clutched between our dripping hands
Sometimes warm
Sometimes frozen
One day she tried to wake me from my teenage dreams
But I was growing tired of walking with Elaine in the rain
So she went on her own
And never returned
After searching for several days they found her body
She was bloated and floating face down in the local river
Partly wedged under a fallen tree
Somewhat hidden from public view
There was rumour it was murder
But I knew just how much her life had been blighted by grief
Since Dad had passed away exactly ten years before
We drove to the Chapel of Rest in Uncle Don’s white van
And there she was
All peaceful looking in her long wooden box
Her hands folded neatly across her chest
Like a sleeping martyr I guessed
I reached into my pocket and found the tiny shiny shell
I kissed it gently for a lingering moment and lovingly
Leaning over the coffin pushed it under her cold fingers
Safely wedged in the palm of her right hand
The hand that held mine when we went walking in the rain together
Here
Take this Mum, I whispered
And when you meet with Dad
Wherever that might be
Take a walk in the sunshine
And maybe think of me
