I will always hold that memory, the memory of the last time I saw rain, close to me. Now, in my world of darkness, that is the one memory I see the clearest, despite it still being blurred.

My family was always concerned, always trying to help. They probably felt bad for my accident. I had lost light from my eyes, but I had also somehow detached myself from reality. My family seemed but intruders on my quiet peace, and I regret feeling that way.

My life became based around touch; the feel of the marble counter, the feel of the cat's fur, the feel of my children's skin. Even if I no longer spoke much, I found myself communicating more through touch- a hug here and a hug there- to show I still acknowledged them, despite them being pests in my crop of peace.

I only truly broke out of that trance when I felt the tears of my children. Without being able to see them, their tears seemed much more real against my skin. The cat had just died. Got ran over, they sobbed.

I didn't know what words to say, so I ceased speaking. Instead, I just embraced them, holding them and humming to them until their eyes dried up, and longer still until they were on the brink of falling asleep. I realized how important I still was to them, and how sensitive they were to tragedy now.

But the tragedies weren't meant to end there.

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