Returning to the Place
Excitement coursed through my veins as I anticipated my appointment in Glastonbury, England. Thirteen years had passed since I stood in this exact spot. I couldn’t resist sprinting up High Street and turning right on Wells Road. I slowed down from fear and perspiration on this hot August morning as I approached my destination.
The shock of seeing the Abbey House through its huge gate was overwhelming. I leaned against the 10-foot-high stone wall that surrounded the property. I needed to catch my breath and focus on why I came. The charcoal-gray stones were cool and refreshing on my back after my fifteen-minute dash from my B&B. My legs refused to move any further. An invisible guard kept me stock-still as I absorbed the sight of my own post-traumatic stress experience.
The Awful Shock
My mind flooded with memories of leaving the Abbey House in a daze on July 20,2005. I could see myself being gently placed in a taxi, while a crowd of tearful women surrounded me on the front steps of this same building.
On that same day, most of the women in my writers’ retreat had gone to visit a crop circle nearby. I chose to stay home and participate in the labyrinth meditation. During the meditation, I felt a strong urge to call my family in NJ. I hurried upstairs to the second floor of the Abbey to make the call. The lobster-red telephone sat on a table in the hallway.
Since I had no cell phone, I poured out the change I needed to make the call. I couldn’t wait to thank my husband for encouraging me to make the trip: I had fallen in love with Glastonbury.
The minute our daughter, Diane, picked up the phone, I launched into an enthusiastic narrative of the land of Camelot. She interrupted me with words that would change me forever. “Mom, Cyndi is dead. You must come home.”
I couldn’t move, let alone comprehend what Diane had said. Just then, all the change I had fed into the phone was swallowed up, and it went silent. I turned to the woman next to me and blurted out, “Diane said my daughter is dead. That can’t be right.”
Excerpted from Treasures in Grief: Discover 7 Spiritual Gifts Hidden in Your Pain
