Some People Drink. I Run.

I know this feeling, I've had it for most of my life. It's like a clock ticking deep inside of me, tugging on my heart with every beat.

Pending dread.

The instinctual knowledge that something is looming...an upcoming event that is going to cause pain and tears in the shower. Silently, in my sleep it came to me: The One Year Anniversary...of so many hurtful incidents that I'm afraid for time to roll forward.

Pierce being diagnosed with autism.
My dad's heart attack.
The car accident.
Thanksgiving 2004 - the last time we were all together as a family.
My sister's mysterious hospitalization and sudden, unexpected passing.
My futile attempts to keep my mother alive.
Her last words to me, "Please take care of me" as I was kissing her forehead.
My medical leave and the grinding angst until I finally pulled the trigger and quit.

Is it any wonder that my stomach and digestive systems are an utter mess? Can anyone be surprised that I refused to leave the house, answer the phone or even talk with friends?

I held my sister's cats last night and just sobbed. For them, for her...and because of the disbelieving shock that still radiates throughout my body. I cannot conjure up an explanation of how I made it through this last year, and there is nothing, nothing that could ever entice me to go through it again. I want to say that I am wiser now...that I have a deeper understanding of humanity and our purpose here on this planet.

The truth, however, is that I am lost.

No ambition or desire to ever return to the corporate world. No clear understanding of what purpose my life serves in the end. Good or bad, does my behaviour really matter? Two of my sister's friends claim to have experienced a visit from her shortly after her death. Was that real and if so, why the hell didn't she come to my other sister or to me? Our insides have been curdled by pain, and we could have used the enlightened hope generated from a Vision.

I am grateful for this new beginning in a new city. And as hard as I have tried to outrun the pain, it's still there. Beating against my heart and ravishing my stomach. Forcing me to go through it.

And pressing me to understand that pain is a part of me that cannot be denied or ignored...or extricated by distraction or newness.