The Fourth Year
|Jimmy and Spencer, 8.8.2015|
This morning probably started like any other Life Day in the past. In sadness. I wanted to be alone with my memories, the hurt and the pain. I would allow myself to revisit it all since it was in fact, August the 8th.
Today marks four years since Jimmy was paralyzed in a car accident.
Spencer woke up around 5:10 this morning (she's teething...) and went back down around 7 for a few more hours. At 7, I had started to write was turning out to be a really depressing blog post on the injury and Life Day #4. I'm glad I didn't post it. I hadn't given the day a fair chance yet.
After feeding Jimmy breakfast, Spencer and I went to the gym and then picked up some lunch. We came home and he was up, somewhat energetic, and happy to see us. We all ate together in the living room with the patio french-doors open. Spencer with her purees, me with my salad, and Jimmy with his calzone. Feeding three mouths at a time. Only once did I try to give Spencer Dadda's calzone. And then only once did I try to give Dadda some baby food puree. (5:10 in the morning...)
We spent the rest of the day out on the patio. We played on our phones and I gave Jimmy a shave. He had his brown liquor drink to celebrate all the shiz he's been through and lived through. But really... we just stared at our daughter, played with her and laughed with her.
That's the difference this year. It's her.
Everything else seems the same. Although this year - wowza. Had a close call, didn't we? Most of the time it's the infections, the fatigue, the staffing, the appointments, the medication, the nutrition, the whatever! Any given time, it's always something.
This morning, though, I just wanted to wallow. I pulled the blanket up to my eyes. I looked out the window and let my mind travel down that road. I cried.I continue to grieve. I thought about the what-ifs. Four year sounds like such a long time. I have to make myself to think about our life before, think about Jimmy before. I don't want those lively, warm memories to fade. Jimmy's walk. The clothes he picked for himself every morning. His work ethic. The food he used to cook. His handwriting. What we did the day before the accident. What we did the weekend before the accident. The little gifts and gestures. Some of that has bled through, of course. He's still very much here. But it's definitely two completely different lives. Our old life and the new one.
For the most part, I think we're content in this life. We've settled in, even among the pain and the scars. We've got a routine to help get us up in the morning. It helps us to keep going. We just have to keep going.
Because let me tell you something: nine month-old baby girls don't care if you're sad. They still need Mama cuddles and full-on entertaining in the morning. And they want to be walked into Dadda's room for morning time there, too. No wallowing. Get it together.
We made the best out of our August 8th of this year. Even with Jimmy only up for four hours in his chair. Even with me running on fumes. Even with Spencer teething and a bit fussy...
We had our day. We had our happiness today.