Shadows

One thing the stroke gave me was a glimpse of, or a better understanding of, being a shadow of myself.  My father lived that way for most of my life, until he passed away in 2002.  He had lost my brother in 1968 and my mother eight months later.  He was so lost.  He lived that way for nearly 35 years.

I no longer feel like a shadow of myself.  It’s been four years four months since the stroke.  I no longer wake up and think about the fact that I’ve lost half my vision, and my brain is new. And I know I can work with both things now.

A year ago, I was dying inside.  I no longer wanted to live; it was too hard. 

Today is so much more hopeful. 

I’m trying to figure out what I can do with my life now.  Instead of waking up to these disabilities, I wake up thinking about my first cup of coffee, what I have going on, how I can help my wife, how I can be of service. 

Next week I will be headed up to Nantucket to help my mother-in-law with some people she is hosting.  I may not be able to drive them places or run errands; but I can help cook, clean, take care of the home front.  I would never have volunteered for these last years, or perhaps not even before the stroke. 

Now, I feel like, if there is some way for me to be of service, I need to do it.  It gives me a sense of purpose as well as giving me an opportunity to see what I am capable of. 

If I want to improve your self-esteem; I must do esteem-able things.