Raining more than ever

Raining more than ever.

The tears fell, and mingled with the rain dripping down my face, rain and tears can’t be separated, unlike dreams and man.
I struggled to open the umbrella, my hands shaking too much to separate the spokes and push it open. I was glad of the rain, sun would be too painful.
I remembered the sign I had ordered, black background, gold edging and lettering, ‘Dan Hunter and Son’. It was due for delivery next month.
Sally laughed when I told her, but she understood my excitement. Our son would be joining me in my business.
My son.
The lump in my throat grew and the pain in my chest intensified.
I thought of the phone call, the rush to the hospital, running down the corridors until I reached the ward, bursting into the room as the doctor checked the heartbeat.
The blood smeared face and body of my son, my beautiful son, lay in my wife’s arms.
I filled with pride, reached to hold the tiny hand, and as I did so I realised that something was wrong.
Solemn faces, shaking heads and tears spoke more than words. Grief squeezed my heart, I fell to my knees by the bed.
My son. Born to early.


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