SUMMER HOUSE VI

I came seeking solitude but was confronted with torment. My cries to God were unanswered or met with what I could only interpret as a mocking response. The blister on my cheek burned with an intensity the wound did not merit.

Until three years earlier torment was unthinkable here. This had always been a place of spiritual renewal...somehow I had let it become a prison of fear and regret.

When she died it was easy to run from all that was familiar. I avoided restaurants we loved, relationships we shared...in truth virtually anything that might constitute joy. Hence, Summer House was off limits.

I was undeserving of happiness. I believed God had made that point ...very convincingly.

There was no diagnosis that prepared us. Instead we were met with medical uncertainties and theories. Those were followed by medications, surgeries, more medications, consultations and consternation. Eventually it produced a jaded sense of bewilderment...but no cure. It seemed to feed on a litany of ill defined medical procedures that produced nothing with the exception of astronomical bills. I paid and protested until it became apparent to all that technology offered no answer and worse yet no hope. At that point the doctors abandoned us. I took some small consolation by giving the same treatment to their collection agencies.

The chaotic din of my fears became a welcoming chorus...for death.

I retreated to the only unwavering force I knew. I prayed.

She died.

Her faith was unshaken as she left me. I believed with her that night....the question was whether I could believe without her.

It seemed like only seconds had passed before lawyers lined up offering me comfort...in the form of cash.

I eventually hired an attorney with only one stipulation: no matter the offer the lawyer had to refuse to settle for at least three years. I wanted to inflict suffering on others. I could think of nothing to ease my pain, but if such a thing did exist I knew it wasn't money.

That third night at Summer House I continued to fuel the fire, but I was unable to incinerate my anger. I raged at her...at doctors...at lawyers and God.

I doubted all of them...except her. She was real...I knew that from my pain.

The next morning the fever set in...Misery may love company, but I was alone with mine, at least it felt that way.