UNEXPECTED WEATHERby descrime
It always seemed to rain on days that Isshin went to the graveyard. Isshin didn’t know if it was fate or poor planning on his part, but he had taken to always carry an umbrella when he came. Today was no exception. There was only the steady pound of the rain on stone as Isshin made his way through the narrow alleys between graves.
He finally came to his destination: a gravestone so white and polished it seemed almost new with its base covered in yellow and orange flowers. Isshin had come with his family to the graveyard last week, but he always liked to make a trip alone. When he came with other people, he had to be the positive one, filling up the silence of the graveyard with jokes and light-hearted banter. Isshin liked to make a separate visit alone, where he could just be.
Isshin leaned over, putting a stick of incense into its holder. He fumbled with his cigarette lighter, but the rain put out the flame too quickly and the scent was washed away.
Isshin stood back up, eyes memorizing the monument and the delicately engraved kanji as he had the year before and the year before that. The flowers were getting soggy from the rain, Isshin observed, if it didn’t let up soon the petals would be washed away.
Come back, he wanted to say, as always, but that was selfish, so he never did. Move on. We’ll be fine. He had said those words last week, when he was surrounded by his children and most acutely aware of the hole in their family.
Isshin focused on the simple geometric shape of the gravestone and tried not to get angry, because while he was aware of the why of this death, he had never been given a satisfactory how.
Isshin’s watch beeped. He had an appointment in an hour and needed to get back to the clinic.
He had said it all before except…
“It’s uncool,” he murmured, “to bury your own child.”
For a second, Isshin almost imagined he could feel a hand on his shoulder, comforting him. But the moment passed and Isshin was walking back down the stairs; the kanji for Ichigo burned into his mind.
It always seemed to rain on days that Isshin went to the graveyard. Isshin didn’t know if it was fate or poor planning on his part, but he had taken to always carry an umbrella when he came. Today was no exception. There was only the steady pound of the rain on stone as Isshin made his way through the narrow alleys between graves.
He finally came to his destination: a gravestone so white and polished it seemed almost new with its base covered in yellow and orange flowers. Isshin had come with his family to the graveyard last week, but he always liked to make a trip alone. When he came with other people, he had to be the positive one, filling up the silence of the graveyard with jokes and light-hearted banter. Isshin liked to make a separate visit alone, where he could just be.
Isshin leaned over, putting a stick of incense into its holder. He fumbled with his cigarette lighter, but the rain put out the flame too quickly and the scent was washed away.
Isshin stood back up, eyes memorizing the monument and the delicately engraved kanji as he had the year before and the year before that. The flowers were getting soggy from the rain, Isshin observed, if it didn’t let up soon the petals would be washed away.
Come back, he wanted to say, as always, but that was selfish, so he never did. Move on. We’ll be fine. He had said those words last week, when he was surrounded by his children and most acutely aware of the hole in their family.
Isshin focused on the simple geometric shape of the gravestone and tried not to get angry, because while he was aware of the why of this death, he had never been given a satisfactory how.
Isshin’s watch beeped. He had an appointment in an hour and needed to get back to the clinic.
He had said it all before except…
“It’s uncool,” he murmured, “to bury your own child.”
For a second, Isshin almost imagined he could feel a hand on his shoulder, comforting him. But the moment passed and Isshin was walking back down the stairs; the kanji for Ichigo burned into his mind.