8 years....

8 years ago at precisely this time it felt like everything I knew was falling apart. 

All day it has been on my mind. Like muscle memory. Didn't know what but knew something. I stayed busy today. As I have for the past 8 years, maybe longer. It's hard sometimes to sit with all our emotions. It's been 8 years since my dad had his stroke. 8 years since doctors said he would never walk again. 8 years since doctors said he would never talk again. 8 years since doctors said the best case scenario was that he learn to transfer from a bed to a wheel chair and back. 

I reflect back on that night. Not knowing if dad would pull through. Not knowing if they could get the swelling on his brain to go down. Now knowing if he would wake up. The unknown has always been terrifying to me. 

8 years since doctors said they have no explanation for his progress aside from saying its a miracle. Funny how sometimes what one person views as a miracle can be a complete detriment to another. I imagine my dad got sick of hearing how he was such a miracle because the miracle to us stripped him of his livelihood. This miracle took away everything he knew and quite literally has stopped him in his tracks. And yet I see how it has impacted so many others, one being my son. To see his love for everything neuroscience and neurology emerging is incredible. He asked a lot of questions of doctors and nurses the days following my dad's stroke. He has always been inquisitive.

Sometimes people ask if there is anything you could change would you? I always had that cliché answer that I wouldn't because I wouldn't be where I was if it weren't for everything I had been through. But the truth of the matter is if I could turn back time I'd want the stroke to not be part of my dad's story, part of my families story. No part of it seems fair. My feeble mind could never begin to comprehend God's plan or purpose in this stroke. Some days I feel like I've been cheated out of time with my dad. 

Don't miss interpret what I'm saying. I do see many good things that have come from this. My dad is alive today. Ambiguous loss is real and difficult to navigate, but he is still physically present. Seeing my dad relearn everything in therapy the weeks following his stroke made me realize all the little things we take for granted....everything from brushing our teeth to getting dressed to using the bathroom. The ability to walk, to express what is on our mind, to go to the store, to cut the yard, to open an envelope....to identify letters and the words they form. I watched my dad fight to gain back so many skills and abilities that I probably still take for granted. 

Every 30 seconds someone in the United States has a stroke. Every 3 minutes and 14 seconds someone dies of a stroke. I thank God my dad was not part of the later statistic. It isn't lost on me where he was or how far he has come or the blessings and favor we have felt thus far. 

8 years....sometimes it feels like its been a lifetime...