Six Months Later
Six months ago at about this time, I was having lunch for the last time with Rylie. At that moment, I had no idea that a few short hours from then would be the last time I would ever hear her voice, see her blue eyes glitter at me, or see her beautiful smile.
On many levels it’s hard to believe that it’s been six months already since the accident. There are times it seems like just yesterday. There are times when I replay those moments over and over. Times where I see the glass walls blasting their way towards us. Times when I relive the moments of screaming her name. Times when I replay the last times she may have truly heard my voice; realizing that I was calling her someone else’s name because I didn’t know it was her pinned beneath me.
Then there are times when I am amazed at how much we’ve adapted. I am amazed at how life has continued. I still get up everyday, go to work, workout most days, cook meals, go grocery shopping, do laundry, chauffeur to hockey, etc. There are new things too. I make an effort to call someone instead of text (kind of). I meet friends for coffee. I try to tell people how much I appreciate them instead of assuming they know. I get frustrated at the mundane, but try to be aware that I just have a new perspective on things.
Not a day goes by without me thinking of Rylie. I talk to her daily and try channel her spirit of grace and giving. I am so thankful that what turned out to be my last day with her was filled with moments of bonding and laughter. At least as those not so great moments replay in my head, I can hold onto knowing that I didn’t spend my last day with her doing the mundane.
So while I know that the pantry needs to be stocked, underwear and socks washed, and lessons planned, I will try to make time each day to focus on the person next to me. To talk to them, to hear them, to laugh and smile with them. Never in a million years would I have suspected that six months later I wouldn’t be doing those things with Rylie today.