The Choice

because my panic isn’t the result of purely external triggers. It is an
expression of the memories and fears that live inside. If I keep myself
in exile from a particular part of the globe, I am really saying that I
want to exile the part of myself that is afraid. Maybe there is
something I can learn by getting closer to that part.
And what of my legacy? Only hours ago, Jason faced a turning
point in his life—the moment when he held a gun in his hand but
didn’t pull the trigger, when he considered the legacy he wanted to
pass on to his children, when he chose something other than violence.
What legacy do I want to pass on? What will I leave in the world when
I am gone? I have already chosen to relinquish secrets and denial and
shame. But have I really made peace with the past? Is there more to
resolve so that I don’t perpetuate more pain?
I think of my mother’s mother, who died suddenly in her sleep. Of
my mother, whose grief over the trauma of that sudden childhood loss
marked her with hunger and fear from a very early age, and who
passed on to her own children a vague inchoate sense of loss. And
what will I pass on, besides her smooth skin, her thick hair, her deep
eyes, besides the pain and grief and rage at having lost her too young?
And what if I have to return to the site of my trauma to stop the cycle,
to create a different kind of legacy?
I accept the invitation to Berchtesgaden.