June 8, 1994
"Everyone gets scared when they are over matched in the dark - it's not something to be ashamed of."
Robert Parker
Fourteen years ago today, on a bright blue Sunday, I met Maggie at J.C. Hillary's on Boylston Street in Boston - directly across the street from the Prudential Center. It was an accidental meeting of two strangers waiting for love. Was it fate? An act of God? A fortunate encounter that fooled us? Today we are strangers once once again, but my memories of that day are as clear as this afternoon's sky. If fate is kind, then in some future year this date will become just another day on the calendar.
It's odd how the past and its long forgotten memories suddenly come back to the mind for no reason at all. After my grandfather killed himself, I used to go into the woods where he died and sit on the stonewall there and think about him - as I listened to the birds and watch squirrels run up trees and leap from branch to branch. I did this once or twice a month right up until I graduated from high school - six years after his death. As I sat in the woods I would hear his voice in the wind and see his face in the shadows.
And I can feel Anne's tender touch as we walked back to her dorm on an early Sunday morning in February. We pause by the front door and she kisses me softly as she pins to my jacket a red button with the words, "I AM LOVED" - she smiles, a sly sunny smile and whispers, 'I love you" - and walks into her dorm.
I am held captive by the memories of the past, but I am safe there. It is the present that bothers me. I am over matched by life, in daylight and in darkness. I am overwhelmed by all that's around me and lack the ability to cope. There is no future, only now. I no longer hope for the best and expect the worst - now, I just expect the worst. Everyday new fears frighten me. The latest is that I'm afraid to go to the Post Office and get my mail. Every time I open my mail box I expect bad news. What type of bad news and from whom, I don't know.
I know this fear is unfounded but it's uncontrollable. I am scared of life, a lonely and lost sheep in search of a good shepherd.
Tomorrow is the 28th anniversary of my grandmother Frawley's death - I loved her dearly and deeply. When I was young and over matched by the dark, she would comfort and console me. She would take me into her arms and tell me a story or sing me a lullaby, and my gears would disappear. May she be dressed in the clothes of heaven.
1:30pm - Sandwich Library - Sandwich, MA
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