I called my dad today. I asked him if he knew what day it was. He didn't remember... but I can't forget.
It's the 9th anniversary of his brain aneurysm. He remembers nothing of that day - the most tragic of my life to date - or the difficult months that followed. But I do.
He would have died instantly if he wasn't already in the emergency room when his aneurysm burst. He was in a comma for 9 agonizing days, in the neuro ICU for 6 weeks during which he could have died at any moment, and in hospitals for a total of 3 months that summer. He underwent a total of 5 major surgeries, had to relearn to walk, and had a feeding tube for a year and a half.
It's the 9th anniversary of his brain aneurysm. He remembers nothing of that day - the most tragic of my life to date - or the difficult months that followed. But I do.
He would have died instantly if he wasn't already in the emergency room when his aneurysm burst. He was in a comma for 9 agonizing days, in the neuro ICU for 6 weeks during which he could have died at any moment, and in hospitals for a total of 3 months that summer. He underwent a total of 5 major surgeries, had to relearn to walk, and had a feeding tube for a year and a half.
I'm feeling all sorts of things today. I've spent some time trying to remind myself who he was before the aneurysm - full of life, endlessly interested in others, affectionate, empathetic, a peacemaker, self-sacrificing, my biggest fan. It's getting harder to remember.
It's odd to feel thankful to still have him but also to miss him. Although he is physically still here, a piece of him was lost that day. I have full confidence and hope that that piece will run up to me in Heaven someday, give me a big bear hug and tell me how proud he is of me. That will be a great day.
This is my dad today - actually, at Christmas:
It's odd to feel thankful to still have him but also to miss him. Although he is physically still here, a piece of him was lost that day. I have full confidence and hope that that piece will run up to me in Heaven someday, give me a big bear hug and tell me how proud he is of me. That will be a great day.
This is my dad today - actually, at Christmas:
I'm so thankful that nine years after that tragic June day, he's still here with us.
Such an odd mix of emotions - gratitude, sadness & hope. All three have been forced to live together now for some time in the part of my heart reserved for my dad.
Such an odd mix of emotions - gratitude, sadness & hope. All three have been forced to live together now for some time in the part of my heart reserved for my dad.
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