| |
Early fall. A crisp, breezy morning. I hear the rustling leaves outside the window of Sandy’s guest room.
It’s comfortable here. I’ve probably slept better in the past six weeks than I have since the incident last spring. Of course, getting myself off those drugs my dad and brother were slipping me has helped tremendously.
I suppose in a way Sandy was right. Even though there’s a medical explanation for my memory’s return, the fact that I’m here at all, that I’m safe, is nothing short of a miracle.
Marco got called into the police station the same day my memories came back. It didn’t take Drisklay long to convince him to testify. Which means they’re going after Dad next. I try to remember what Drisklay told me that day in his office. Just because someone’s a monster doesn’t make them a bad parent.
I wonder if it’s normal to feel sorry for my dad. And guilty since I’m the reason he’s in so much trouble.
Sandy’s been amazing, of course. Said I can stay here as long as I need. I can think clearly now and form new memories, but I never did recover everything I lost last summer. It’s probably just as well. I can’t imagine the trauma of having to learn each and every day Mom and Chris are dead.
It’s even worse knowing that my Dad’s to blame.
Let’s just say I’m glad that chapter in my life is coming to an end.
Sandy has something she wants me to watch when I’m ready. Someone made a video of Chris’s funeral last summer. I couldn’t go. I was entrenched in police interviews, and for the first few weeks coming off the drugs, my senses were easily overwhelmed by crowds and loud noises. I heard the service was pretty amazing. Something like a hundred people came forward and asked for prayer. Most of them were teens from school or the youth group. A big chunk of them have become Christians.
So maybe Chris’s dream of becoming a preacher and telling so many people about Jesus came true after all.
Right now, my life consists of morning devotions with Sandy and her family, lots of naps, and meetings with Drisklay. I guess that’s going to be the story of my life for the next several months. Meetings and lawyers and appointments all the time. I’ve had a couple different doctors give me full exams to make sure my brain’s recovered. That and to ensure I’m healthy enough to testify at my father’s trial.
I did a Google search of that drug Marco stole from his company, the one Dad kept slipping me to make me unable to remember. Apparently it’s been used with PTSD victims to make them forget their trauma entirely. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m just glad to have my normal brain back. It’s kind of creepy when you sit down and think about how much one little pill can impact everything. Make you lose your memory. Your entire identity, really.
Like I said, I’m glad I don’t remember those three months last summer.
I missed graduation, but I was awarded my diploma anyway. Sandy drove me by my old school a few weeks ago to pick it up. She’s called NYU on my behalf too, and they’ve agreed to defer my scholarship. Some people take a gap year to travel the States or backpack across Europe. Looks like I’m taking a gap year to testify against my own father.
My emotions have evened out as my body finally purged the drugs from my system. I’m still devastated. Still miss my mom more than words can express. And I know I’ll remember that determined look on Chris’s face for the rest of my life. Both he and my mom died protecting me. I guess that’s supposed to make me feel thankful. Maybe gratitude will come later. At this moment, I just feel guilty. Sandy has a friend who’s a grief counselor. Says she’s ready to talk with me whenever I feel strong enough to come in. There’s no rush. My job is to get by day to day. It’s still disorienting to wake up and recall that my mom and boyfriend are dead and my father’s the one responsible.
Some days I wish I could forget again. Just for a little while.
I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I’ve been reading my Bible a lot when Sandy’s out running errands or busy getting dinner ready. I still don’t know why God allowed so many terrible things to happen to me and the people I love most, but I guess he’s never promised to give us all the answers. He’s just promised to walk beside us in our sorrows.
I’ve found the Psalms especially comforting these past few weeks.
It’s early, but I hear Sandy puttering around in the kitchen. I’m surprised she doesn’t wake up the entire cul de sac when she’s in there cooking. Pretty soon, I’ll get dressed. Head down the hall. See if Sandy needs a hand setting the table or pulling her whole wheat muffins out of the oven.
There’s a Bible verse I read the other day. It’s another one from Psalms. God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing.
It’s hard to describe how disorienting it is to lose your entire family in a day. To find out that your mom has been killed and your brother and father are both implicated. It’s even weirder trying to describe what I feel when I think about losing Chris. Sometimes I’m not sure if I should say my boyfriend is dead or my fiancé is dead. It feels to me like neither word describes who he was or what he meant to me.
Some days I wake up furious at him. He should have never taken off down that trail. I could have stalled my dad. There’s no way he would have hurt me. It could have given Chris the chance to get away. I’m mad at him for playing the hero, mad at him for dying. Mad at him for leaving me so alone. And then I remember that verse from Psalms.
God sets the lonely in families ...
In a few minutes, I’ll join hands around a table with Sandy and her son as her husband thanks God for the food. While we eat breakfast, Sandy will pray over the names on her various lists and her husband will read a passage from the Bible and out of that morning devotion book he loves. It will never replace what I’ve lost. Never make me forget the pain I’ve suffered.
But maybe the point isn’t to forget.
Maybe the point is to keep on remembering.