Tombstone

It was a gloomy day that had been threatening to spill over since the morning. It was mimicking her inner turmoil. She couldn’t focus on anything, felt far from productive and wherever she went melancholy accompanied her. She felt heavy and sad. She felt depressed, like the weight of the world was especially heavy that day. The burden she had been accustomed to carry her whole life, the burden she barely noticed most days, was threatening to bury her under it today.

She decided to give up on trying to work and went for a walk. Most people were hiding inside, not wanting to get caught in the rain, but she welcomed it. She wanted to be cleansed, feel lighter.

Her legs kept carrying her forward, she wasn’t paying attention to the direction. After an hour she realized she ended up at the cemetery. She stared at the gate, wondering when and if she decided to come here.

But now that she was here, there was little point in turning around and going away. She walked in and stopped only when she reached her parents’ grave. Her hands in her pockets, she scanned the tombstone, her eyes caressing the letter and numbers. There was so much emotions ransacking through her, so much pain and hurt, it took all over her strength to remain on her feet.

As the memories penetrated her mind, her legs gave in. She folded onto the grass, her legs underneath her. She lowered her head and sighed loudly. She felt alone, like there was no one that knew her, like there was no one for her, like no one could help. She was the solution to other people’s problems, but in the time of need no one was there to solve hers. Their troubles were hers but her troubles were hers as well. She had taken that realization with her every day but on that day it weighed more, it pressed on her soul.

She fought. She ached. She suffered. Alone.

And as the first tear fell from her eye, so did the first raindrop from the sky.