Rain—the cool liquid that falls from the sky.
It can destroy farms, flood homes, collapse buildings, and even take lives.
But on the brighter side, it helps plants grow and keeps animals, including humans, hydrated.
Today, though, this wasn’t the refreshing, happy kind of rain.
This… was the rain of sorrow.
People gathered at the cemetery, huddled under umbrellas, watching silently as the late Jalissa, Valerie’s mother, was laid to rest.
Many of her friends stood close, doing their best to console the grieving teenager.
The casket was lowered into the earth. Soft thuds of soil followed. Flowers of all kinds were gently tossed in a quiet gesture of love and farewell.
Once the grave was covered and the tombstone placed, the mourners stepped forward again, this time each carrying a new flower.
“She was an amazing mother,” Valerie whispered, placing a single rose by the stone.
“A good friend.”
“A kind person.”
“And we will remember you in our hearts.”
The sympathisers offered their final condolences before slowly drifting away, each one wishing Valerie strength and peace.
Eventually, she was alone.
She closed her umbrella and stared at the tombstone.
At this point, she didn’t care about the rain soaking her clothes or the chill clinging to her skin.
She let out a heavy sigh and lifted her face to the sky, not flinching as the droplets streamed down.
She cried—but no one could see.
Why? Because when you cry in the rain, the tears become invisible.
“Dearest Mother,” she began softly, her voice trembling.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I understand now. I finally understand what people mean when they say not everyone is meant to stay in your life forever.”
She smiled gently, eyes still wet.
“I don’t blame you for losing the battle with cancer. You fought the best you could.
Thanks again… for everything.
I’ll be on my way now.
Bye.”
Valerie opened her umbrella again, raised it above her, and began the slow walk home.
Later that night, she curled up in bed, her face buried
in her pillow, and cried herself to sleep.