Chapter Two

 And so the trip continues. . .

                      *see my previous post for Chapter One

                                        

                                           

                                                                 GOOGLE IMAGE

                                         

It was late morning when the plane landed. I was exhausted from the swell of emotions I had been experiencing. My body ached from several nights of no rest and I could feel my energy quickly draining. I needed a good meal (and a nap). But knowing I had a lengthy drive ahead of me, I opted to grab fast food on the trip to the hotel. I had an hour drive to the hotel in Mesa where my sister and I would spend the next couple of days together; the last moments this side of eternity.

The sun nearly blinded me as I maneuvered the rental car from the dark parking lot onto the foreign roadway. As I reached for my sunglasses, I recognized my dependence on the rented G.P.S. and hoped it would not fail me. 

The Arizona skyline with it's mountains and cacti nearly took my breath away; a far cry from the flat lands and gray skies I had left behind.  Though it was late morning, the sun was already beating into the car's interior; a welcomed guest that lifted my spirits even if only for a moment. There was something about seeing the palm trees and beautiful horizon that moved me. Something stirred me. Perhaps it was the adventurer within me; a part of me that had grown dormant throughout the years. The once free spirited little girl was now replaced by a middle aged woman. (One who had grown to accept 'practicality' over adventure.) In all the years of living outside of Chicago, I had never attempted to make the drive alone to the city.  And yet here I was, driving alone in unknown territory and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Time to grow up Lori,” I whispered, taking in the  view. I flipped the radio dial, hoping I would find some relief for the deep sorrow that loomed. A sorrow that was longing to burst forth, yet I did everything I could to hold it down.

After about fifteen minutes and with each passing road sign there came a realization that Mesa was in the other direction. A sudden surge of adrenaline left me sweaty and panicked. The navigation system was shouting orders, “Turn left, turn right.” Over and over it barked, taking me in wide circles. I found myself praying and exited the highway. 
“Dear Jesus, help me find my way. Keep me safe on this     journey.” 
 I pulled over and tried unsuccessfully to reset the G.P.S.

“Great. Just great,” I exhaled. “Now what?” Suddenly both my eyes and the air inside the car seemed to burn; it burned hot. I cracked a window, but dared not to drop it too low, resting my head on the seat.

“This. This is why I never venture anywhere by myself. This is why I am such a wimp.”

Self pity had once again made a visit, and I could no longer hold back the ocean of tears that spilled forth from the recesses of my soul. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I felt helpless and ashamed of my inadequacies (and fears).

After tears had squeezed my soul nearly dry, I inhaled and once again reigned in my emotions, lowering my head for a prayer. Once again I felt the Lord's presence and was reminded of his words on the plane, “Fear not for I am with you. This will be a difficult journey for you but I will be with you. Do not be afraid.” Wiping the tears I knew what I needed to do. I needed to call my "big" sister.

 Knowing she would be at the hospital having another round of radiation to her brain, I was pleasantly surprised to hear her voice on the other end. Thankfully she was still in the waiting room and sounded rather chipper; more energetic than I had expected. During our phone conversations the weeks prior I noticed her breathing had become labored and her voice hoarse. But today she sounded much more alert and I could almost hear the sparkle in her eyes as she gave me directions to the hotel. It was a relief to my heavy heart.

Several months after Susan had been given a clean bill of health, she was told that the cancer had suddenly metastasized to her brain and lungs. This is often the case with this kind of breast cancer. It was devastating news for us all but she refused defeat and decided to count her blessings; and like so many given the same prognosis, she determined to live each day as a gift. (Something that came much easier for her than me.) Her free spirit had always allowed her to see the good, when I seemed to find the bad. (Its what attracted so many to her.)  And though the years of cancer treatment nearly took her life on several occasions, it did not stop her once again from accepting any hope that continued treatment could offer. A brave decision, one I'm not sure I could have made. The prognosis was not good and she was given an oxygen tank and short of a miracle, only a few months to live.

With the time she had left she hoped to redeem as much of her life as she could, giving love and receiving it. She began a Facebook page in celebration of her life, where family and friends could honor her and share happy memories with her. Quite clever when you think about it and what a blessing it was to everyone who participated. She also wanted to visit with those of us whom she had denied for so many years. The word, “denied” seems so strong, but in the end that is exactly what happens to many families of addicts. The drugs themselves become “family” and those who dare reach out to the addicts are denied access to their hearts and lives. This was the case for my dear sister and yet it was cancer, as awful as it was, that allowed us access once again into her life. Not long after the news, she called the family to come visit her while she still had the energy. While she fought with everything she had, I believe she knew deep within her that her days were short. 

What would take place in the hotel room, I wondered? Only God knew and I had to trust him, but I could not shake the darkness that felt so palpable, I could feel it's presence. There was one other than God who was also with me, and I knew there was more to the story than I could see.

Once back on the road my eyes drank in the beauty and soon my mind began to wander to old memories, forgotten chapters. And I was taken back to the early years when Susan was my rock, my protector against the “bogeyman,” but little did I know that it was she whom needed protection.

The Bible says that the enemy roams like a roaring lion looking for those he can devour. . .

Sadly, I soon learned that early in Susan's life the bogeyman had made a visit.

To be continued. . .