Right now, my life feels compartmentalized. My brain has sorted my life to: before dad's accident and after his accident. Additionally, I have after dad's accident when I still thought he was going to live and when I first came to understand that he wasn't going to make it. I had put all these pictures on the blog eagerly waiting a time that I could return to them to fill in the information. Going back to them now is one of the more surreal experiences of my life on earth. This was before the accident, and before the haunting discovery, and before his eventual death. These pictures, for me, represent an entirely different life: one that I will never have again on this earth. Simple things: a day at the park, a new quilt from mom, running through fountains, a drop in visit from my parents after a family walk... so very many simple things that I've always taken for granted have irrevocably changed. I'm grateful for the wonderful memories, the insurmountable blessings, and the life of my father so well lived... so beautifully displayed... so important to so very many people. But I am also heart broken. These pictures, a few weeks ago, were nothing more than our daily lives. Today, they are tender, last minute reminders to treat every day like it's your last, to be more present, and to remember that, though life is fragile, it is meant for us to enjoy, relish, and love.
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