Darkness Beyond the Night

At twenty-two, Catherine's old enough, and it's time ... she's going to tell you her part of the story. This morning as I sat on the swing sipping my hot-chocolate, a chilly breeze brought goose-bumps up on my arms. “I should be happy,” I thought. I’m going to be graduating from SUNY, Binghamton soon. I have a good job and a possible great career ahead of me. I really have no worries. My grandmother takes great care of me but the problem is ... I'm not happy. I thought, “... what is wrong with me?” I have so many questions. I am so blessed and I have so much to be thankful for, why am I not content with my life? What happened to my parents and my brother? I miss them. Why did my grandparents have to raise me? There's this horrible feeling of emptiness in me that I can't describe. Please don't think I am ungrateful. I love Grandmother Alice and she has been wonderful to me, but she has never been willing to talk to me about what happened to my family. I suppose it is possible that she really doesn't know what happened.
I hastily got ready for work and as I pulled out of the driveway I felt like something was grabbing at my insides telling me that I must do something now. That it can't wait … so much so that it's made me nauseous. What couldn't wait? I debated calling in sick to work, but decided I would just have to work through it. I didn't know why, but for the last four months or so, I've been feeling very ill-at-ease. I have a lot of nervous energy and can't seem to stay put for any length of time. Grandmother Alice told me, "You are like a hummingbird - delicate and graceful, but fluttering all around. If you have to you can remain still for awhile, then you dart off and become as busy as a bee." Today, I feel more like that than usual. I can feel it. There's something out there that changes all of us from time-to-time ... moves us and pushes us to do things that we didn't believe we could possibly do. Maybe for me it has to do with the seasons of my life that my father used to tell me about. Though I'm grown now and will soon graduate from college I don’t know what to do with my life, maybe that’s why the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know I should be starting a career ... and then again ... maybe that's not it at all.
Every week-day morning for the past three years, I've been working part time as an assistant to the editor for the local newspaper, the Evening Press. After work, I rush to my classes in photography and journalism at the State University. With graduation coming soon I'm hoping to be hired on at the Press full-time. Graduation is the first week in May and yes, in just three weeks I will have my BA in Journalism. It seems as though I've been taking classes forever. Today as I drove to work I thought, “If work is slow today I can do a little research and access some microfiche newspaper clippings for 'January 19, 1992' ... the last time I remember seeing my parents and brother.
My research didn’t happen. My boss came over to my desk shortly after I arrived at work and said, "I need you to sweat bullets for me today, Catherine. That story Brian gave us for the evening paper is a disaster." Yes Sir, I said. Oh well, I thought ... soon I will have time and I can find out something. Someone, something, somewhere has to have some answers for me.
New York just went onto daylight savings in April so tonight; I still have a couple of hours of daylight left after class. That will give me time to go the library and work on my last required research paper before dark. It's always bothered me to go to and from the campus parking lot after dark. The parking lots are so far away from the buildings and the lighting isn't that great. Shadows are everywhere. It makes me shiver to think of who, or what could be out there lurking in the shadows. I know there are security phones on several of the light poles, but they are few and far between and they still don't help that queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When I get scared I like to think back to more pleasant times like the amazing Christmas I had seventeen years ago, and my fifth birthday that followed in January. My parents, my brother, and my grandparents were all together with me then. Christmas was such a wonderful day. Mom and dad had bought the Baby Grand piano at Christmas for me to take lessons on. That morning after the presents were opened and breakfast cleared away, mom sat down at the piano to play. She played so beautifully that it took my breath away. I wondered ... is it possible ... could I ever play like that. There was a fire burning in the fireplace. It felt so nice and warm. You could smell the pine scent from the Christmas tree, the aromas of turkey roasting in the oven, and the pies that Grandmother and mom had just baked. I can almost taste the peppermint taste of the candy canes. Oh how I long for that day again. The Christmas tree lights were blinking on and off reflecting in the mirror over the fireplace. Chris was just a baby then, about four months old. He was in a cradle near the Christmas tree and seemed completely enthralled with the blinking lights. What a sweet smile on his face. Not a care in the world.
Grandmother, Grandfather, dad and I stood around the piano while mother played and sang Christmas carols and drank warm apple cider. I remember thinking how wonderful it was to be together like that. Everything seemed so perfect. Well, I tried to sing along with them, but I only knew some of the words. I said, “I wish I could play the piano like that.”Dad picked me up and gave me a great big hug and said, “You will honey, it just takes time and lots of practice, but you will play just like that a few years from now." I felt so safe and comfortable in his strong arms. I can still remember the smell of his cologne, British Sterling I believe. Everything about the house was cozy. Outside, it was snowing and you could hear the wind whistling around the corners the house. A little less than a month went by and it was my birthday, January 19th, 1992. I really didn't like having my birthday so soon after Christmas since money was usually in short supply then. The holidays almost always depleted the budget, and I can remember mom and dad talking about how it was hard for them to come up with the property taxes, the insurance and all of the other bills in January.
In spite of money problems, Mom and Dad always made life fun for me on my birthday. That year when I turned five, mom and dad had a little party for me in the afternoon. They invited three of my friends over. Heather and Judy lived just down the road about a quarter of a mile, and Meghan lived just another road further away, about another mile. There were lots of brightly colored balloons and games to play. We had sandwiches, iced cupcakes with colored sprinkles on them and ice cream. Later dad hooked Snowflake up to the wagon and we all went on a nice long hay ride. There were light snow flurries and a chill in the air. The cold chill didn’t bother us though; we were all dressed warm in our snow-suits with hats, scarves, and mittens and we were wrapped up in warm blankets. Mom and Dad brought hot chocolate in thermoses for us to drink to keep us snuggly warm. Everyone was singing, laughing, and having a great time. I wish it could have lasted forever. Little did I know that tragedy soon would turn my world up-side-down!