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Welcome to Stuff I Learned Yesterday. My name is Barb Rankin, living in Arizona, I miss the rain, and I believe that if you aren’t learning, you aren’t living. In today’s episode of Stuff I Learned Yesterday I talk about the miracles I experienced during the hardest time of my life, when my brother passed away.
Fun Fact:
Here in Phoenix, Arizona, we get an average of 8 inches of rain annually, and there are normally about 36 days per year with rainfall. When you only get 8 inches of rain, it’s hard to say you have a “rainy season,” but July and August average about 1 inch of rain per month during our “monsoon” season.
Miami, Florida, where I grew up, averages almost 62 inches of rain annually, and the rainiest months are June and September, which have almost 10 inches of rain each month. There are 128 days per year with rainfall.
People seem to believe that Seattle, Washington is very rain, because it is so often under cloud cover, but the annual rainfall is only 34 inches per year, with an average of 152 days of rainfall.
So what’s the driest place? That would be Death Valley, California with an annual average of 2.36 inches. Makes Phoenix look like virtual oasis, doesn’t it?
The rainiest city in the United States? That would be Hilo, on the Big Island of Hawaii, with a whopping average annual rainfall of 157 inches. Let that sink in.
This comes to us from USClimateData.com and from WeatherDB.com.
What I Learned Yesterday:
The car’s dashboard clock read 8:07am, I was listening to a song on a new CD that I had felt compelled to buy the night before, and I was crying. I didn’t know why I was crying – I just was.
I dried my tears, arrived at the office, late, got to my desk and went right to work. My co-workers and I were all in cubicles so there was no privacy for anyone. We knew what happened in each other’s lives.
My cell phone rang around 10:30, an unknown caller. This was 9 years ago, before telemarketers began calling our cell phones, so puzzled, I answered the phone. It was a police sergeant, asking a few questions about my brother, Rob, who lived in South Florida, and although I knew what was coming, I made him tell me. Rob was dead.
Rob was and always will be, my baby brother. We were born 22 months apart, and he had just turned 50. Rob had been diagnosed with Diabetes Mellitus Type 1, also known as insulin dependant or Juvenile Diabetes, when he was 8 years old. He had also developed high blood pressure as he got older, and had undiagnosed heart issues that were inherited from the paternal side of our family. He had been having problems during the prior 3 months, and had an appointment with a specialist the following week. He never made it.
My co-workers heard my gasp when the officer gave me the news, and they immediately came over to offer help in that moment. They were my first miracle. One called my pastor, and another told our manager, as I sat at my desk in shock. You simply don’t think straight when someone tells you that someone you love is gone – and you weren’t expecting that news. I needed them to help get me pointed in the right direction until my brain engaged again.
When someone dies unexpectedly, shock and disbelief are normal reactions. We’re not prepared. But these emotions protect us and enable us to push forward until the shock wears off and we truly begin the grieving process. Funerals and memorial services can help us during this initial period, as we acknowledge that the one we loved has died, and that it is okay for us to begin moving toward healing. The service is for us, those left behind, to celebrate the life of our loved one, to laugh and to cry, to be human.
I called a dear family friend next, because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to begin. I had to tell Mom, I had to make arrangements, and I didn’t know where to start. Johnny was wonderful, giving me emotional support, telling me what I might expect, and what were some of the things I would need to do to prepare for a memorial service. He was my second miracle.
I then called two of my best friends in Phoenix, who cleared their calendars, managed to find two seats side by side on a direct flight to Florida the next morning, tidied up my home, and bought food for dinner. They also arranged, between the two of them, to take care of my cats and home while I was gone. They were my third miracle.
Since it was a Tuesday, my pastor was at church for their staff meeting, and was immediately ready to provide spiritual support to me and as we drove over to mom’s apartment to tell her. He was my fourth miracle.
I had called friends in Miami to ask for the name of a funeral home, and spoke with them, making some arrangements over the phone. They were wonderful, and Mom was comforted, since this was the same place that had handled the arrangements when my father had died, 48 years earlier.
After we had made arrangements and services had been held, we had to begin the task of going through Rob’s apartment, deciding what we wanted to keep and what we would give to Goodwill. One of my dear friends from college and her husband drove down from Boca Raton to help us. Jen and I went through most of the items, and packed them for mailing. Bob helped carry the boxes to the FedEx office so they could be shipped. It was a miracle that they were available that weekend on short notice, and were able to help.
And through all this, the September rain began in earnest, although it seemed to pause when we had to carry things to and from the car. I felt as if the angels in heaven were weeping with us, and comforting us in our loss.
Rob had an old, dilapidated car and I didn’t know what we were going to do with that. I dropped into the church office, to ask about donating it, and there was one congregation member there – who worked in car sales and disposition – and within 24 hours, he had helped us transfer the title and took it off our hands so that we would not need to worry when we returned to Phoenix. As I followed him to the place we would transfer it, it began to rain again. Another miracle in the rain.
It was now one week after I had received the call. Mementoes were in transit to Phoenix. The remaining items needed to be taken to Goodwill. Mom and I took 5 carloads of clothing, household items, and furniture there, and on the last trip, the rain began again. It was pouring as I backed under the overhang of the Goodwill dock. I took the last items out of the car and then looked around me. There were Rob’s material things, and it suddenly struck me that I would never see him again. I felt as if I had thrown him away. As the Goodwill employee looked at me with puzzlement and then uncomfortable surprise, I turned my back to the car where Mom was sitting, and finally wept.
We had one last thing we had to do. It was Rob’s wish that his ashes be scattered in two places that were near and dear to his heart. I had no clue how we were going to do that. He chose two very tough spots to get into, and scattering ashes in some places isn’t exactly allowed. Anyone who knew him, knows he was a huge sports fan and had a wicked sense of humor. I’ll just let you guess as to where we had to go. So late at night, dressed in dark clothing, Mom and I took his ashes and lo and behold – in an area that was surrounded by a wire fence – there was an opening where the fence had been torn or clipped back – just enough for us to squeeze through. I promise – I didn’t have wire cutters. We were able to scatter half his ashes there, and as soon as we got back to the hotel, the skies opened up again, raining down on the ashes and no doubt soaking them into the ground.
The second spot was going to be harder as it was a public venue that was normally locked up tight during the week. But wouldn’t you know it! There was a meeting that was going to be held there just after we arrived and the gates were open. Running into a security guard, we simply said we were from out of town, hadn’t seen this venue in a long time, and he let us in. We were able to go where we needed to go and scatter Rob’s remaining ashes before the guard came back. Talk about a miracle!
It was time to go home. And driving to the airport, it rained yet again. Healing rain. Out of our pain, we had experienced many miracles in the rain.
Here’s what I learned.
When you lose someone you love, you need to hold on to something – your faith, your family, your friends – to get you through what I think is one of the most difficult journeys in life.
I made a list of each little miracle, each little gift, each person that made a difference to me, and I keep it today to remind me of how I was shepherded through the period following Rob’s death.
It took a long time to go through the mourning process, and little things today can trigger the pain from that period. You learn to live in this new world without your loved one, but you never forget them.
This experience has helped me to help others, to be there with a short note, a phone call, a card, to just listen or simply sit quietly by their side.
Give yourself time. Let your family and friends help you. It’s okay to be angry, to cry, to feel out of control, to be afraid. Remember the important moments, and talk about your loved one. Cling to your faith and your hope. Look for the miracles.
Remember that song on the CD? Bring the Rain, by MercyMe. It remains one of my favorite songs today.
Several weeks after I returned from Florida, while I was handling all the paperwork that accompanies the death of a loved one, I received copies of Rob’s death certificate. And in shock, I stared at the time of death. 11:07am, in Fort Lauderdale, Florida – 8:07am in Phoenix.
I will see Rob again one day.
I’m Barb Rankin and this has been stuff I learned yesterday.
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