How can you find peace when they don't die?

Serious questions today, about, ummmmm, a friend. Yeah, a friend.

Let's call her Maggie.

Maggie had a troubled childhood. She had this uncle who was one of those kinds of uncles. You know the kind that make for great crime drama tv shows, but crappy childhoods? Yeah, that kind. She thinks. She has giant black holes in her memory and vague feelings of ick along with little memories of him trying to stuff his tongue down her throat and saying things like, "oh, a just little kiss this time?" but nothing that could be used in a court of law.

Missing years. But all those years got lost thirty years ago.

Well, that uncle didn't die, didn't get arrested -- well, not for what he did to Maggie. He did spend a few years in jail for what he did to his step-daughter about ten years later, but he's out now. Has been for many years. And there are still those tiny scraps of memory that surface every now and then, particularly when some crime drama tv show comes on with this theme. Then Maggie spends a few sleepless nights terrified of the closet and the under-bed-area dreaming of broken things scattered all over the floor.

So many tiny little pieces that they'll be impossible to ever pick all of them up.

Do you think that means anything?

And Maggie can't kill him. She doesn't live in that kind of world.

Even if she did live in that world, he's not the problem any more. He's old and drunk and broken, no more threat to anyone (finally). The tiny broken scraps of memories are the real problem.

She can live a good life. She can create a happy family for herself. She can make a life so different from her childhood it's hardly recognizable. But can she ever find peace? Will she ever truly forget? Or does she have to remember to get past it?

Too many of life's problems don't have a solution.