Jane and me, Christmas 2008.
Today is Easter Sunday. But, for a Sunday in mid–April in Dallas, Texas, it's been unusually cool, wet and dreary.
Typically, May is our wettest month around here. But I doubt that many folks are complaining. Dry, windy conditions led to wildfires west of Fort Worth last week, forcing many families to evacuate their homes. And the smoke from those fires was causing problems for traffic to the east.
But today's rain may have put an end to any lingering fires.
Most of the rain seems to have fallen in the early hours of this Easter, but I was out there in the middle of it when it was coming down. Not too many other people were out there with me. Most people were sensible enough to be at home, in their beds, instead of out and about.
But my brother and I joined an old family friend for a sunrise service, and we had agreed to gather at our friend's house and go on to the service from there.
So, this morning, my alarm went off at 4:30, and I got up and took my shower.
When I got up, I could hear the rain coming down outside. And I only had to look outside for a few seconds to confirm that it was really pouring — even though it was pitch black outside.
I can't tell you how long it's been since I got up at 4:30 in the morning. And — for reasons I'll get into shortly — I'm kind of wary of driving in heavy rain.
So I'll admit, when I was taking my shower and then when I was getting dressed, I muttered a few times, "Whose idea was this?"
But, as I say, Jane is an old friend of the family. She was my mother's closest friend, going back to the days when they were children. And if she asked me to walk through fire, I would.
I didn't have to walk through fire this morning. But I didn't think the rain was going to be a problem, either. While I was getting dressed, I had the TV on, and the weather reporter was telling the viewing audience that the rain would be passing through east Dallas in the next 10–15 minutes, then things would be clearing up. I live on the east side of Dallas, and Jane's house is to the west of my apartment so I figured I would be in good shape.
Not so. As it turned out, the rain picked up in intensity as I made my way west. In fact, by the time I got close to Jane's house, the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see the street signs. And there were times when I wondered if the standing water would force me to change my route.
It is ironic that the rain was coming down the way it was. My mother died in a flash flood in 1995. A storm front came through the area while she and my father were having dinner with some friends. They were about a mile from their home when their car got caught in rapidly rising water. My mother was swept to her death. My father was pinned between the car and the guardrail, which disabled him but probably saved his life.
Since that time, I've been hesitant to drive in stormy weather. And, I'll admit, I wasn't crazy about the idea this morning. But Jane and her husband (who passed away last summer) came through for us in a big way that night. They left the comfort of their home and went out in the stormy weather, picked up my father at the hospital, where he had been taken for treatment, made sure he was safely deposited at his home and then contacted my brother and me to let us know what had happened.
There was no way the rain was going to keep me from going to a sunrise service with Jane this morning.
Mom's death was a loss for many people, not just my family. Mom was a first–grade teacher, and her death hit many families hard.
And Jane, as I say, was her dearest friend. But she put her own grief aside. In the next several days, she and her husband did all sorts of things to help our family in our hour of need. At Mom's memorial service (which Jane helped to plan), she gave one of the eulogies. How she was able to compose a beautiful tribute to Mom while dealing with her own grief and loss is something I will never know.
Mom has been in my thoughts a lot this week. Actually, the last time I saw her was on Easter, about three weeks before she died. Another irony, I suppose.
I guess I can never thank Jane enough for what she's done for us over the years. I certainly can never thank her enough for what she did for us when Mom died.
Getting out in the rain on Easter Sunday seems like the least I could do.
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