There are different layers of life. They’re always there. There’re layers I experience more than others. Some are happy, some are terribly sad, some make me laugh, some make me cry, some are full of hope, some feel as if I was falling down an abyss.
There are layers I never knew existed.
I remember one day, shortly after our return from Cape Cod to Dublin, when I was unable to even imagine a future. That day, a good friend (I never knew I had) told me that I had to hang in there. That – although I’d not believe her then – this terrible pain would become bearable. It would not go away, but I would be able to deal with it. That I would find a way, that life would find a way for me, for my family, to continue, in a different way, but that it would continue.
There are many mansions in my father’s house.
One of the aspects of life here is that we are in the company of many people with different types of disabilities. Many young people here had accidents. Most of them many years ago. As drivers of cars or motorcyclists. Some have made dramatic improvements. We talk to each other, get to know the patients and their families, the different ways they deal with their new life. An Saol Nua.
In less than three weeks, we will leave all of this here behind. The routine, the people, the place.
What will it be like to walk down Iona Road, O’Connell Street, Harcourt Street, to be in Leitrim? To go shopping, to go to concerts, to go to museums, to sessions? To peel off the layers? No restrictions. But a constant and desperate fight not to give in, to focus on the positive, to stay together, to resist all sorts of pressures, to remain calm (mostly) and reasonable (possibly), to love (always).
The BBC showed a documentary last night about a young snowboarder who recovered after a bad accident. Today, someone had uploaded it to youtube and you can watch it here: Me and My New Brain.