Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84 Page 85 Page 86 Page 87 Page 88 Page 89 Page 90 Page 91 Page 92 Page 93 Page 94 Page 95 Page 96 Page 97 Page 98 Page 99 Page 100 Page 101 Page 102 Page 103 Page 104 Page 105 Page 106 Page 107 Page 108 Page 109 Page 110 Page 111 Page 112 Page 113 Page 114 Page 115 Page 116 Page 117 Page 118 Page 119 Page 120 Page 121 Page 122 Page 123 Page 124 Page 125 Page 126 Page 127 Page 128 Page 129 Page 130 Page 131 Page 132 Page 133 Page 134 Page 135 Page 136 Page 137 Page 138 Page 139 Page 140Port Mag_Ad 15.indd 1 6/15/16 9:51 PM Unique, Quality Toys & Games for All Ages Offering a wide selection that is constantly being updated and changed — puzzles, books, puppets, games and toys for both indoors and outdoors. Visit us for updates on new merchandise, promotions and events! Open Mon, Weds, Thur, Sat 10-6, Fri 10-8, Sun 10-4 28 Main St., Cornish • 207-625-3322 • atonceallagog.com May 25-October 10, 2016 Shore Road & Bourne Lane Ogunquit, Maine www.BarnGallery.org 207-646-8400 Work by members of Ogunquit Art Association and other local fine artists BARN GALLERY J u ly / A u g u s t 2016 135 It was too much to bear. So, in those next few minutes, I flung that unimagina- ble, fledgling sorrow into a closet, locked the door, and threw away the key. “Acopingmechanism,”Dr.Ksays.“Com- mon with children. They avoid mourning the loss because facing it is unthinkable. And sometimes, it works. But,” she pins me with her gaze, and I refrain from squirming. “It must be mourned eventually.” Herwordschallengeme,butIhearaninter- nal sentry: I’m sorry, ma’am—those files are in- accessible.Nothingtosee,lady.Movealong. “I’d like to try something,” she continues, and my body tenses. “It has to do with appeal- ing to your heart–your inner child–instead of youradultbrain.MayI?”Inod,andshebegins to speak. “That little girl inside is so sad.” Her voice,gentleandsoft,forcesmyeyesdownand makesmegritmyteeth.“Soalone.” I suddenly desperately want her to stop; I am caroming toward a yawning, immense, black-filled canyon. “She misses her mother so much.” The emotion in Dr. K’s voice draws my eyes up- ward, and I am shocked to see tears in her eyes. “She needs comfort, and she can’t find it. That little girl is so sad, Deana—but it’s okay to be sad.” Oh no. Dr. K’s face doubles, triples through my tears. Ragged sobs rend out of my chest; my sorrow feels too large to be allowed. She continues after a while. “Your home represents comfort and safety–like a moth- er figure,” she suggests. “If you are subcon- sciously equating this move to the one from your childhood, it stands to reason that you are equating it to the loss of your mother–a loss you never mourned.” The theory resonated. She said I needed to allow myself to cry– and cry, I did: in the shower, on a jog, in the car. And on moving day, when all we had were the echoes of our footsteps in empty rooms, my husband and son patiently wait- ed while my daughter and I walked through every room, weeping and holding hands. But we moved, and no tragedy struck. New memories are accumulating, and it feels like home. I feared being unable to re- member our old house without pain, but the memories are fond, comfortable. They re- mind me that loss–a door through which we all must pass–is survivable; some of us just take longer to find the key and walk through it, for fear of what lies on the other side. n