It�s raining outside. Funny� I never used to dwell on things like the weather, but nowadays, it�s as though I have nothing better to do. I�ll stare out of the bedroom window for hours on end, watching the raindrops fall from the sky to gather in tiny puddles on the ground.

Why?

Because of you. Because of you, Daniel.

You, Daniel, who taught my eyes to see, my hands to touch, and my heart to sing.

You, Daniel, were the one who supported me through my most intolerable moments. You never left my side.

I can hear thunder off in the distance� maybe the storm will pass overhead? I don�t really care.

You know, it�s been three years now. Probably the longest three years of my life. Oh, who, am I kidding? There�s no �probably�. Three years is much too long� three years since I last heard your voice, three years since I last stared into your over-feeling eyes�

�Oh, God, I miss those eyes�

It�s been three years since I waved you good-bye as you walked out my door, stepped into your car� and never returned.

�Dazza, don�t worry, I won�t be home late this time.�

But you never came home at all! I waited� stayed awake as late as I could� hoping to catch you as you walked through that door�

Two days later, they found your car off in some ditch. They said that you�d been driving drunk, over the speed limit. Without a seatbelt.����������� I refuse to believe it. Daniel, you wouldn�t do that� you couldn�t ever be so reckless. No, I know you better than that. Why did this happen? What was running through your mind? Were you really so drunk that you�d just abandon yourself like that?

No. It just isn�t possible.

Why am I dwelling on this? You did what you did, for whatever reason, and I can�t change it.

I can�t change the past.

Damn the past.

Sometimes, I�ll sit in my living room and stare at the door, half-expecting you to just come waltzing in after a night of partying. Sure, you�d be drunk, and sure, you�d smell� but I�d wrap you up in my arms� And I�d just be glad to have you home.

Oh, God, I�m crying again.

I changed after that night, I guess. I don�t laugh much anymore, nor do I ever see beauty in the things I used to love. I can�t look at a painting anymore� the art of it is lost on me. I can�t listen to music� it all sounds like a funeral march. I can�t sit in the sand down on the beach and watch the sun set below the ocean� simple things that we used to do, together, are harder and harder to bear.

Last year, I took a walk down our favorite trail. Yes, the one that you used to drag me down every Saturday morning because you thought I needed the exercise.� I found that secluded little grove where you�d taken me one day� I�d been puzzled. You�d confessed. And I couldn�t believe that I hadn�t seen it sooner. And you�d placed your hands upon my shoulders� and kissed me. Right there.

I went back to that spot. I could still smell your cologne in the air� I could still hear your laughter� I could still feel your lips on mine�

There was an iris growing there, right where we�d stood so long before. An iris is a radiant flower, isn�t it? Appearing to grow so strong and beautiful� but so fragile that it could be broken by human hands. Yet that fragile beauty is its enemy� for when a passerby lackadaisically plucks the flower from the ground, content to hold it in his hands and caress the smooth petals against his skin� the iris is already dying.

So, because of its brilliance, the iris is left wilted and dead.

Did you send that iris, Daniel? Is it a message for me? Are you still out there� somewhere�?

Whether you are, or not, I took that iris. I ripped it from the ground so that its life would wither away with my touch. And every time I return to that place� another one has sprung right up. Symbolic of the never ending cycle of death and regeneration.

It�s your iris, Danny.

I know that, in some metaphorical way, it�s yours. An emblem of you. Ephermeral.

And so I keep taking the irises. Every spring, I�ll return, until they are gone� and then, in my mind, I�ll know that you�re okay.

There�s a meaning.

There�s a promise.

There�s a lesson to be learned in this. I know that somehow.

It�s raining outside� but suddenly, that doesn�t feel so bad. I smile at the thought of the raindrops� traveling down the face of an iris somewhere� like the teardrops you used to cry.

I wish I were your teardrop�

Born inside your eye just to caress your cheek�

And die upon your lips.