A Moment in Time

I wasn’t bitter or resentful or even sad, just so numb and lifeless to everything around me, and nothing made sense. It just felt as if I was going with the flow of something I just didn’t quite understand. All I seemed to comprehend was that I couldn’t walk, I was in this wheelchair, which was far too awkward for me. And, in addition to that, I needed to have people around me at all times, constantly helping me. This was something I could never have imagined for myself, especially after leading such a fulfilled and independent life.

The reality and the extent of my injury still really never dawned on me, and it was because I was still very much in denial of everything, and if I didn’t believe it or accept it, it was easier for me to bear. My family and friends were around helping me all the way almost, sheltering me from the blow I really did take. And I was grateful for that, because I didn’t want to feel any of that. I just wanted to feel that nothing was different and everything was the same as before, that nothing had changed, not even me. I was so strong for everybody including myself, but most of all trying to always put on a brave and content face, especially in front of my daughter. Yet, even she knew better. Even she didn’t know how to be around me anymore.

Yet my comfort was that I knew Sunjay and I still had each other, and that the children were resilient enough to where we would all get through this. I never stopped loving them and showing them that no matter what, I would always be there for them. They never saw my tears and never saw the anguish I was going through each and every day. I hid it well from them and sometimes even from myself. It was the greatest defense mechanism a human being has to protect them in order not to feel the pain.