I just don’t know that this isn’t the best day of my life?
If someone had told me that 31st of January 2012 would be the last day Emily walked, I don’t think I would have understood the gravity of the day. 20 months on Emily has shown enormous inner strength, grace and resilience to accept her injury and paralysis. My heart will never recover from the shock and sadness that I now accept everyday, I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore. I have learnt the deeper meaning of love, the meaning of giving, care and community.
I am glad I didn’t know the trauma that awaited our family on 1st February 2012 as the dread would have inhibited any joy in living, I would have lived unhappily in the brewing fear of the future event. If I tried to shield my loved ones from all life’s dangers we would have to exist in a padded cardboard box and that’s not living. I have learnt since Emily’s accident that she can live life, an exciting worthwhile life, with purpose and fulfillment as a person with quadriplegia. Emily can travel, learn, work and the bit I appreciate everyday is she is wonderfully herself.
Understanding that if I miss today because I think my tomorrows will be better I just miss today and that’s practically a time crime. I wake up everyday to fully engage in the day, see the dawning weather, exercise, taste my coffee, listen to my friends chat and care for my family within profoundly connected relationships. I have been fortunate to undertake a course to learn and appreciate mindfulness, I practice stillness and calm my mind and body as often as practical, sensing my day heightens my experiences within the day, enhancing life’s moments
Bon Jovi played to me and the ANZ Stadium on Saturday, and while I was absorbed in the atmosphere, the enormous set in the grand auditorium, the massed raptured fans, the showmanship, I listened to him sing his own lyrics. I love his music as he puts life into words. I felt his energy along with 75,000 others. For me, tonelessly singing It’s My Life into the vast black open roof void was uniting and intense. Each ticket holder in the crowd took away their individual experience from the evening’s performance, mine was that we are all similar, we all want to live and live well, our own way. I looked across at my family and each of their faces warmly illuminated by the stage lighting, glowing and smiling as the music swirled and embraced us, embraced our senses and there in that moment I caught it, I caught it in my heart. I have a number of such captured memories that no camera can record on celluloid. The moment is felt and lives in my heart. It is fleeting and if I am not careful the moment can be lost or missed. I have always had a propensity to hold memories within but since Emily’s accident I feel enriched with special moments, privileged with friendships, I feel I live a strong, honest and intense life and respond to positive vibes, care, integrity and wholeness. I see complete people when there maybe incomplete bodies and I don’t measure my days other than to reflect; the future is unknown so live fully now. As I choose to live with this enlightened attitude I enjoy inner peace and mental strength and I savor life – just the way it is. As I sung with Jon into the night sky and swayed rhythmically, I basked in the moment, I simply live like it’s the best day of my life.