Brain Injury Anniversary Reflections

I awoke to a November morning today, and could feel a level of uneasiness just under the surface.

November 11th is anniversary of the day that “it” happened.

I marvel that it’s been almost nine years. These days, I spend less time looking back, but November seems to increase the size of my life’s rear-view mirror exponentially. It’s hard not to look back at the reflections of all that has come to pass since that fated day – the day that my life was spared.

Though I know that life before my brain injury existed, I find it impossible to remember the person I once was. Oh, how I struggled with that during the early years, desperately wanting to turn back the clock to a life that was more carefree, pain-free, and easier than the hand that I was dealt. But here is no rewind button on life. We get what we get and I got what I got – struck by a speeding car at 49.

“As the years continued to pass, he found himself looking back less often,” said the Winnie the Pooh narrator who lives in my head.

There have been stunning and inexplicable losses. Watching two sons walk out of my life early on after my injury was tough, though the pain was tempered by the ever-present brain fog that defined early recovery. Having my third son make the decision earlier this year that I was no longer worth his time was much more painful. Not only do I have mental clarity again, eliminating the Novocain Brain that numbed the pain, but he also took away our beloved grandchildren. This alone has been perhaps the most brutal loss since I started riding the brain injury bus back in 2010.

By focusing on loss, the loses are magnified. So I try hard to look at the positives. Where my attention turns defines how my life unfolds.

There was an undefinable exhilaration in the early years as invitation after invitation to present in a keynote capacity at conferences came our way. Not once did I seek these advocacy opportunities out. They simply came my way. Seattle, Baltimore, Providence, Canada… Chicago, the list goes on. Sarah and I realized that we were part of something much bigger than we ever knew in our lives before. Fate swept us along to amazing places as we continued to meet the kindest people that we never knew existed.

My first book was followed by a second, and then a third. There were interviews, board meetings, and article requests. It was an action-packed time, and one that I am quite happy is behind us. We healed a lot during those early years, Sarah and I. And I’d like to think that we helped a lot of people along the way. But everything has a beginning and an ending. Slowly, that chapter of our lives came to a close as the torch was passed to the next generation of advocates. It’s part of the natural progression of things, I suppose.

And here I find myself, a short ten days away from my next anniversary, doing what I do – thinking and pondering the Wonders of Life.

Looking forward no longer fills me with dread. For that alone, I am profoundly grateful. But the reality is that I am getting older – older than I ever thought I’d be. Sixty is a short twenty-two months away. I am a big believer in charting a life path. Though Fate may change my plans, I’m already slowing down a bit. Over the last few years, I count myself as one of the lucky ones. I have been able to resume work again on a full-time basis, but in the not-too-distant future I intent to roll my work hours back a bit, to focus more on living the rest of my life.

I will always be an active and passionate brain injury advocate. It is too important a part of my life to simply step back from. But change is coming. I want to try my hand at new things, explore new technologies, and find different ways to serve humanity.

With the recent death of my Mom, I am again reminded that we all live lives of numbered days. There are only so many more sunrises I will see. One day, hopefully not too soon, the sun will rise upon a world upon which I no longer walk.

Last year, during the exact week that my Mom had her stroke, I released my first work of fiction. 'Chronicles of the Hidden Realm' is a series written for younger readers. It is, by far, the most exciting writing that I’ve ever done. In all that came to pass in September of 2018, I was never able to give my newest book a proper launching. Mom came first. I am chomping at the bit to continue the series with Book Two. My upcoming daily mediation book is still on track for an early December release, something that brings me great joy. Writing takes time, something I hope to have more of.

Every year my anniversary strikes me a bit differently. The fact that it’s taken me until November to really acknowledge it is a healthy sign. I don’t know what emotion the next couple of weeks will bring, and frankly, I don’t care. Mindfulness is now a part of my day-to-day life. It is my intent to live each day as it comes. I can worry about tomorrow’s path today. I am simply going to focus on the next right thing in front of me – and let the future take care of itself.

And with that, it’s back to work for me – at least for a little while.

~David