Chapter Next

The body’s ability to act out a memory is quite an amazing phenomenon.

I had a wonderful day today, visiting my mother and her boyfriend with my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. The weather was not ideal, but in the presence of my family, the sun shone brightly and warmly.

I suppose I have been experiencing anxiety from the time I awoke, this morning. I had trouble waking up, and I struggled with waves of grogginess and headaches throughout the day. I thought nothing of it until the drive home, when I began to feel nauseous and physically uncomfortable, achy, tense and just plain skin-crawly. I figured the heat in the car was too much for me to endure. Even so, I remained excited about coming home to take a nice run. I did just that.

It’s tough to run in the snow. Last night, I ran 4 miles, through slush, ice and puddles. I ran to the gym with thoughts of participating in a 30-minute cardio-class, but I was the only person interested in taking the class, and so it did not take place. I didn’t care. At my gym, there’s there’s always a risk of any particular class not running during its scheduled time, which is really no big deal. I simply always have a “plan B” prepared in case, so I had already accepted the existence of the possibility that I might end up running to the gym and then reversing my direction and running right back home. Either way, I got a nice workout, even though my feet were completely soaking wet and freezing by the time I returned home. I was exhausted. My snow-mound climbing and puddle-jumping nearly doubled my running time.

Tonight’s run was also difficult. I guess I thought the warmer temperature would magically melt every bit of snow and leave the sun shining well past dusk, and cause flowers to bloom throughout the city in a fresh burst of springtime. I now understand the error of my way. I ran 5.5 miles, mostly following Mass Ave. which is a pretty safe run, very well lit and usually teaming with people. But tonight is Christmas Eve, and everything closed early. I had originally planned to run 6.25 miles, straight over the Harvard Bridge and back, but the cold, wet darkness and barren streets caused me to fear for my safety, so I reversed direction early and ran back through the strangely deserted Central and Harvard Squares, yearning for my warm, dry living room.

Running often stirs up my emotions, loosening my denial and purging my anxiety. I no sooner locked the door behind me when I sat, immediately, on the floor in the hallway, against the wall and sobbed uncontrollably.

Four years ago tonight, I could hear Chris’ pain and I could do nothing to help him. That night, I slept on the couch, trying to drown out the sounds and praying that Chris would fall asleep.

Tomorrow will mark the four-year anniversary of the last time I would drive Chris to the hospital, and even though I had a wonderful day today, my body remembered the trauma, and I knew I had to stay home tonight and allow myself to feel and to react to my memories. It’s not so bad. I feel nervous and sad,. but I’m in control, and I’m looking forward to more holiday fun at my father’s house tomorrow.

And I’m looking forward to Jonathan’s return from Pennsylvania, next week. I can see what’s on offer for me this year, and I’m ready to begin shedding the past, if I can. Jonathan’s arms are a sweet safe-haven and I am relishing the safety I feel within them and within him.

All in all, I’m feeling pretty lucky. I’m still very much hurting about what happened to Chris. I'm aware that I am exiting the widow express and beginning a new chapter of life, with Jonathan, whom I am so happy to have met.