It is weird that this blog has, according to not a few people, become something other than just a place for Ken. It has become our story of this thing that has happened to Ken, and those who love him. And there are many. I want Ken, when he is ready to read this (I don't think he has yet come to that point), to read his story. I want him reminded of what he went through, how he is loved.
I hope he doesn't mind me sharing this. We were talking yesterday night. I was laying down and I told him that he is the best thing that ever happened to me. He replied, " and the worst". So, I wrote him this letter. I want it on the blog because, as I said, he will read it someday. I want this out here for him, in this little universe that has been created for him, by him.
You are the best thing that ever happened to me. The worst thing was waiting for you to come out of surgery, terrified that you would die. The next was waiting for you to wake up, waiting for you to signal it was still you. You are still you. Still funny, and kind, and thoughtful. Still wanting to take care of me. And somehow even with all that has happened to you, you do take care of me. You are not the stroke. You are you. And you are still home to me.
I worry that the stroke will take you slowly, if you see only what you can’t do. May I remind you of what you survived? Two brain surgeries, a heart attack and a stroke. You survived and can now choose to be in your life. And I know you are choosing that, I know you are working so hard.
I have no idea what you are going through, have no idea of what it’s like to live in your body as it is now. I do know: that you will get better, you will watch the boys grow up, you will get love and support, you will have joy.
I can’t guarantee that the life we have from now on will be the life we would’ve chosen, but there will be choices involved. I will try to choose, every day, to help us find our new life. Because life post-stroke will be different. We have to adjust. We have to find a way to be grateful. To move from where we are, not where we wish we were.
You came back. And yesterday when I lay down next to you I relaxed for the first time in weeks. I love you.
You have all helped to remind him, hold him up, given so much I am blown away (UNUM, you know what I'm talking about), so please continue. He is here.
My favorite punctuation mark is the semicolon. And it's an apt metaphor for recent years of my life: it's more than a comma pause, not quite a period stop; it usually appears in the middle of a sentence; no one quite knows how to use it properly; it's a sigh of contemplation; a knowing wink; an upward glance of reflection.
Wow! As I told Ken last night, you both inspire me! I am amazed by both of your strength, determination and love. You are loved by so many and we will all be there for you as you create this new life!
ReplyDeleteJamie, truly your voice and heart are so clear in all your posts. Ken's posts pre-surgery were always a special read and your posts are right up there w/ your own unique wisdom, strength, humor, and emotional clarity. Thank you for sharing your love letter/post to Ken. Thank you for grounding me in what is truly important in life...the joining of hands in faith, hope, love in a trusted journey together no matter what the obstacles.
ReplyDeleteCarol RE
You both have given so much to all of us...sharing all the struggles and joys during this time of your lives. You have reminded all of us to appreciate each other, to be grateful for every moment that we have the privilege of being alive and being with those that we love. You're a wonderful example of what true love really is. Thank you. ♥
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