“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.” — Haruki Murakami

The days following an accident, these days are tangible. They can be put in a timeline. They can be boxed and analyzed. It is the time when people call. The days when support is so graciously offered. It is the time when everyone cares, and promises are made. During this time, we felt supported, and we felt loved. We could feel the prayers that were sent, and we prayed along with them, hoping they would help. I will always feel grateful for those prayers and the positive thoughts sent our way. I believe those prayers helped. I believe in the power of positive energy.

After the initial hit, we believed if we could make it through the shock and when Chris had healed it would be over. We did not yet realize we had happened into a storm. A storm that would rage on and off for the foreseeable future. We did not know it was not just one initial wave, but that this wave would be followed by another and then another. When the seas would calm for a while, we would wonder if it was the last storm. We did not know. We do not know. We cannot see over the horizon. Is it a clear blue sky, or are more waves coming, waiting to rock our boat once again? We did not know the days leading up to the accident were the calm before the storm. We believed if we were strong enough to make it through those initial first days, everything would be okay. We had not yet seen the storm clouds that now hang above us.

After those first few days. Along the way. Our loved ones and our support must have felt we did not need them anymore. Maybe they thought the storm had passed. They could look away. Their part was over, and their normal life was waiting. After all, it did not happen to them. Slowly, we started to realize we were not in a ship full of strong and able hands, but instead in a small life raft that holds just a few. Taking stock does not just include those first few days. It is also in the days, months and years that follow.

It still sometimes feels like we are here in our own little life raft. The waves are usually smaller and don’t come as often. I swear we are close to land, and I glimpse it every now and then, over the horizon, as we crest yet another wave. It feels like we are almost there. But, almost where? A question I constantly ask myself. I think of the bigger boat sometimes, and what could have been. Maybe the waves would have been less scary, and would not have hit us so hard.

A suggestion. Please do not offer support to a survivor unless you plan on following through and checking in; do not put the onus on them to ask for it again at a later date. Most won’t. I wish more of those who care about us would have taken the time to be sure we were okay. I wish they had watched us a little bit more closely. All of the signs were there. We were struggling. We needed support. If someone you love has been through something huge. Something that has torn their lives apart. Reach out to them. It might feel uncomfortable to you, and you might not know what to say. I promise you though. They are much more uncomfortable than you. Everything they have held onto, their whole life has been wrenched from their hands. It feels out of their control. Reach out. Do it yourself. Do not choose to believe someone else will do it. That might not be the case. The worst thing you can do as a loved one. Much worse than saying the wrong thing. The worst thing you can do is to not reach out. To leave them alone. That. That does damage. Offer your support honestly and wholeheartedly. Please do not make declarations unless you can back them up. Do not lead them to believe there is a big boat to hold them when what they will end up in is a small life raft with a handful of other souls, and you are not planning on being one of them. Do not be part of the accident when it is exciting and it feeds some need in you. Because if you make promises and declarations, we depend on that support. We believe we have it, and if you do not follow through, you become one of the waves.

Though it has been a difficult journey for us, we remain strong. One thing we have both struggled with is the lack of support from people we assumed would be there for us. The fundamental support we believed we had. The support that in the beginning we were told was waiting for us. For the most part, it was not there. We have gone through a large portion of this storm alone. Not very many people have put out their hands in a real way. Others have added to our burden. Perhaps this has made us stronger. At this point, I do not know. I am starting to suspect that it has. We are okay. We are doing well. We have learned to live without the support of those not ready or willing to reach out. Though it has added a certain sadness to our travels, we both know that it will be better on the other side. The storm has changed us, and I believe that we have both grown immensely. This is a good thing.

Thank you to those who have remained with us through this, and to the new supporters, we have met along the way. When it has been hard to have faith, you have given us the strength to believe that one day it will get easier and that our storm will pass and once again we will find ourselves on calm seas.