If we can just take a moment and look more deeply into their eyes, and their lives. Deborah's post below about Orien Rose reminded me to go look at a blog kept by a friend of my mother, whose son suffered a traumatic brain injury one year ago on July 4th. His mother is an incredible person and the blog she has kept is...well, just read this entry:
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Life with a brain injured person takes on a whole different dimension- a different pace. Like the maple leafed mobile that swings in perpetual motion over Caleb's bed - I am used to moving around. . I am a do-er. Now my day begins with a cup of coffee at his bedside. We watch the birds who hover on the portico watching for the cat and vying for their turn at the feeder. They spot us and gossip. We count the birds...we blow at the mobile. We don't even think about getting up for another hour. We plan our day - will we go to the General for an egg sandwich and then watch Kai surf? Will we wait till Max is up and walk the dog? What slowly measured plan will we come up with for yet another 24 hours? I am the kind who winds the top up tight and begins to pump it again when it shows any sign of slowing...now I am forced to be on the lilting, tilting end where the top threatens to fall over if it does not get juiced up again. Deep breath! I am grateful for this langour. I am learning to trust the process.
I was at a grief seminar and I learned through other's stories that time reveals all unanswered questions. We are changed people from now on - never to be returned to our former selves, but what we might unfold into is acceptable, even welcomed. Will we always want our old lives back? Yes yes yes a thousand times yes....But already I am noticing that when I look people in the eye as we speak, my eyes linger jut a bit longer and peer a bit deeper. I listen better and I understand more. My heart has softened and clearly - even tho my top is slowing down, I trust that I am turning in the right direction.
We hold you in our thoughts.
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