One of my favorite movie scenes is in Empire of the Sun, when American warplanes begin bombing the Japanese internment camp: young Jim (Christian Bale), up on the roof of an abandoned temple, is enraptured by the sight of these majestic war machines, powerful and determined as they bear down on their targets, exploding buildings with their touch, reshaping the terrain ... these molded works of metal and machinery that are his passion ... his gods.

He is delirious with release and jubilation, oblivious to the explosions going off around his building.

"B Fifty Onnnnne!   Cadillac of the Skyyyyyy!"

His friend the doctor scrambles up to the roof, frantically trying to calm Jim, to get him to take cover.

Words pour out of Jim's mouth in a manic stream.   "Dr. Rawlins! do you remember how we helped to build the runway!   If we had died like the others, our bones would be IN the runway!   In a way it's OUR runway!"

"No, it's their runway, Jim !!"   The doctor grabs Jim and forces him to stop, to look into his eyes, to hear his words.   "Try not to think so much.   TRY NOT TO THINK SO MUCH!"

Whenever I experience a flashback, my mind gets flooded with voices, thoughts, ideas, analyses, interpretations, rationalizations, skewed explanations with no form or meaning.

I had an anxiety attack & flashback on Saturday.   And was reminded of her again ... the one I loved who disappeared suddenly, like a light switch being flipped, snapping from light to dark instantly, gone with the flick of a finger.

In the days since Saturday I've been struggling to prevent those voices from re-defining my reality, my recall of the past, yet again.

Now, the doctor's voice on-screen, screaming into Jim's face, also screams into mine.   "TRY NOT TO THINK SO MUCH!"

the air halts in my lungs.

when the thoughts stop ... what is left underneath?

a feeling forms from within, scattered particles of a mist that come together and condense into a shape.   a shape with a voice.

          ... i miss her ...

tears begin flooding my vision.

          ... i want the chance to say goodbye to her ...

my eyes close, gently tuning out the screen.   my head lowers slowly onto the futon, saltwater spilling out of my eyes.

you can't return to your past; you can't re-enact what was and is over. but we never said goodbye before i left new mexico.   we never said goodbye.

i think all i want, underneath all the pain and the anger and the unanswerable questions, is only the chance to say goodbye, to embrace a final time.   to let her know that i don't hate her for what she did.

is it so much to ask ... to resolve.

is it?

i'm tired of feeling this pain.   i'm so tired of it.   i want out.   but i can't ignore that it, that she, was a pivotal point in my life.

but i've never ignored it.   it's always been with me.

          why did i have to love her so deeply.

brennan once suggested that i could 're-write the ending' in my mind of what happened.   i'll never forget how much impact those words had ... how strangely comforting and frightening that idea was.   perhaps i can apply it to this ... perhaps i can imagine her and me resolving, since reality makes no guarantees this can actually happen.   maybe a perceived resolution will bring me some comfort ... some healing.