I have a massive cold again. Since my stroke my body seems to react to new stressors or changes in my life with a fever, sinus congestion, left earaches, and a cough. Unfortunately, these colds hit me hard; everything is just amplified by ten since my stroke.
Over the last few days I have been informed about a few events that others are planning to organize in my honor. These have left me floored, humbled, and speechless. I have been incredibly emotional as a result. Couple that with being under the weather and I am a straight up hot, hot mess.
Today when I picked up Seeri from school we had to wait for the buses to go by first. She commented that the little bus that takes the "sick" kids had already left. My heart instantly broke. So I responded with, "Seeri, I don't think they are sick. You know what I think? I think that God gave them just a little bit more special because he made them stronger than all of us." She then responded by saying that she had learned that the two sides of their brain didn't talk to each other and that was why they couldn't learn. And then she said, "You have an owie in your brain but your two sides still talk so you can learn." All I could say was "yep," because I was already starting to cry.
We made it about two more blocks before she said, "Mommy, are you crying?" I said yes and she asked why. All I could say was that I didn't know.
How can I explain to a seven year old that I hate that she has a sick mom? I hate that she understands brain injury. I hate that she talks about me being in the hospital like it is just a normal thing that happens to everyone. How do I apologize to her for that?
About fifteen seconds later I composed myself and asked her to promise me one thing:
Be kind to everyone and especially the kids who ride that bus. Because those kids need warm smiles and happy hello's more than any of us. Be friends with them because you will learn more from them than you will from anyone else.
She promised and then, in true 7-year-old fashion, switched right on to the next subject without blinking an eye. Meanwhile, I sit at my island and write this and bawl my eyes out.
Did I say the right thing to her? Probably not. You would think that I would know how to respond to conversations like this considering everything I have experienced over the last ten months. But I don't.
The truth is I still cannot believe how I got here. I can't believe I had a stroke. I can't believe my story has impacted so many people. I can't believe how many people are just so good--like good right down to their core. It is literally mind blowing. My heart is so full that I feel like I could explode most days. How can you say thank you for all of this? Thank you isn't enough. It doesn't do justice to how I feel. But what can you say?
How can I respond when I still haven't adjusted to my new life; to Jamie 2.0?
No comments:
Post a Comment