Some dates and memories just stick in your head, difficult
to shake. Years go by and you
marvel at your own ability to remember.
How can a person remember what the air smelled like 7 years ago one
evening? The hum of fluorescent
lights in a vacant parking lot, the rain drops shimmering on the hood of the
raspberry red minivan. Two
lonesome cars, parked under a light.
The stillness and heavy feeling that saturated our bodies
fell upon us like a blanket that night.
Standing out front the clinic in a parking lot in Langley. We stood in between our cars looking at
one another, grasping hands, speechless – afraid to let go and escape into the privacy of our respective
cars so we could both cry and embrace the terror that was surging below our
brave faces we had tried to put on for one another.
This night is etched in my mind, as crisp and as real as
anything today. I battle with myself
when the memories come back. I wonder what is gained by reliving such
a traumatic night? Why do I do
this to myself? Why do I let a
date on a calendar dictate my mood?
Am I getting better at it as the years go by, or worse?? Why is this so real, so easy to
recall 7 years later?
I’d always thought we are somewhat pre-programmed to soften
memories to make it easier on ourselves.
It’s our built in safety mechanism. How else could people survive traumatic events? It would be destructive to relive these
types of things over and over. Human nature must take over somehow and soften
the blow for us. I believe this to
be true, yet – there are times when all it takes is a date on a calendar, a
place, a familiar smell, or the way the light shines and the memory
is there. Like it never left your side, not even
for a moment.
