Excerpt

I hated God and what He did. What was the reason? Why was I part of His cruel game? Why did my life have to get torn apart?

Alone, I stood looking out at the ruins of the old lighthouse. For a moment, I closed my eyes and in my mind saw the storm raging as if it were yesterday. The horror and terror of it flashed a chill through my body. The stinging sensations of the beating rain still seemed to linger on my face. I quickly opened my eyes.

My mind was very logical and could accept what my ears heard and my eyes saw, the things that were real. But my heart was a maverick. Even with all the bleeding and pain, tearing my heart apart, these facts would not be acknowledged. The unreal had embraced my every emotion, leaving memories that would last all eternity.

My head tilted back as I closed my eyes. My whole body constricted with frustration. My fists clinched. I drew a deep breath, and my entire being shook with tension.

“WHY ME? . . . I DON’T DESERVE THIS! . . . WHY ME?” My words resounded into the gentle sea breeze.

I opened my eyes, then sat on a nearby rock. All the questions I had whirled through me like a thousand pieces of a puzzle, caught in the vortex of a tornado. Would I be able to put it all together and save myself?

In college, I had been an art major, not a psychology or science major. I deal with the unreal when placing paint on a canvas. I extract images from reality or create fantasies putting them on canvas to make them seem real.

But how could my heart come to grips having known the alive, the substance, the emotions, only to be told that none of these things could have been real? This was beyond my comprehension.

The rays of the mid-September sun were warm, but the cool breeze made me aware of the tears running down my cheeks. I wiped my face with my left hand and spoke softly. “God! What about me? It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”

I bit down hard on my lower lip in an effort to rid myself of the painful lump, deep in my chest. I thought I would surely die if the agony inside me became worse.

I looked out at the lighthouse again. I could see it clearly. There was no doubt the physical structure was real and in my mind was the only tangible object joining the real to the unreal. The lighthouse had to be the key to the entire puzzle. I guess that’s why I came, hoping I would find an answer. I was sure the answer would be there.

I slowly rubbed my hand over the rock where I sat. Through my sadness, a little chuckle and smile came to me when I realized this rock and I were old friends. It was the same one on which I used to sit and wait for Daniel.

The sound of the surf breaking on the nearby rocks was mesmerizing. I began to fall into a trance, recalling my first encounter with this location. I smiled with mixed emotions at the reverie creeping into my mind. Everything began a little more than three months ago, in early summer.