“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” ― Gilda Radner

Pictures. We hold in our minds what we believe our lives are going to be. I had a picture. Most of us do. A vision of how we all live our lives. Who we will become. Who we will be. Mine was almost perfect. My picture. At least I thought it was at the time. I did not know, as I held it in my mind, it would never materialize. That person will never exist. I suppose life is not meant to be perfect, though we wish it were. Maybe this is why another path was chosen for us. One on which we strive less for perfection and instead searches for peace and joy. 

I have had to accept the existence of a new reality. The old one. It evaporated before us. I do not really remember what it looked like anymore. It is becoming a distant memory, no longer clear. The lines are blurry. I have tried to hold on to it. To keep it safely in my mind but my efforts have been in vain. Bit by bit it is disappearing. I have tried to put the pieces back together, but they do not fit anymore. Not properly. The cracks are too many. Too jagged. Too deep.

In our new picture, we are more grateful. We have more empathy. We are not as quick to judge. We find joy in the little things. In things, we, as human beings, often forget to be thankful for. Things without monetary value. So much of what we had worked toward and what we had accumulated disappeared. We felt we had sacrificed to get there. We did not have the slightest idea of what sacrifice meant. Not a clue. So now, today, we put more value in the simple things. Like our health and the health of our loved ones. Having a roof over our heads. Watching our children grow. The people who love us and who we love in return. We are still here. We are still alive. We have choices. We can start again. A whole lifetime of adventure awaits us. As far as we know, there is a future before us.

The Chris and Shani who existed before this accident, for the most part, are gone. We have grown into people so very different. It is a deeper place. A deeper relationship. With ourselves. With the world. With our loved ones. With one another. Our little family. It has brought us closer. Chris and I both know things can change in a heartbeat, so we make a promise. We will live this adventure together. Side by side. Living the normality of life, while knowing there is something much more important than the superficial. It may sound corny, but I think I love them better now. With the understanding, I could lose them at any time. I could lose anyone I love within the blink of an eye. There is nothing I can do about it. It is beyond my control.

I am trying to learn. I do not have the control I thought I had. Many of the things I thought mattered, do not. What could have been, will never be. That life will never exist. I think I am okay with it now. For the most part. I am still working on the losses I held close to my heart. The ones that make me cry when they slip away. I have to accept they are not meant to be. Instead, we must create a new picture. Work on a new masterpiece. One in which we hold one another just a little bit tighter. With eyes that see with more wisdom. With smiles that know just a little bit more. I would not have imagined it this way. This new picture though, it is not a fantasy, made up in my mind. It is the life I am living. I am learning to like this new picture. To enjoy life living within it. I have learned love is an amazing thing. It holds us together when it feels like the world is pulling us apart. It truly is the glue. It whispers hold on. You will get through it. Just hold tight to one another. Don’t let go. Do not ever let go.

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Leaving the hospital was like leaving behind the past and entering a new world. We were going home, but we had changed since that fateful day. I say this looking back. We did not know it then. We had entered a new reality. One we would be forced to deal with. To adapt to. I thought the picture had only altered slightly. I did not realize, as we packed up the last of Chris’ things, and we said goodbye and thank you to the nurses and doctors who had filled the past weeks, that our picture had shattered. How could we have known this? Trauma is so often not talked about. Grief is so many times hidden behind closed curtains and doors. The helicopter industry does not deal with accidents in an open and supportive way. We did not know the way an accident of this magnitude would ripple through our lives. We did not know that there was nothing we could do about it. We would no choice but to ride the waves. We did not know it that day. As we joked and smiled. As Chris laughed through his pain. As we were the most grateful we had ever been. That life would still be hard. That there were so many hurdles to jump over and so many rivers to cross that we would tire many times along the way. We will continue to move forward. Through all of the phases of healing and grief. Maybe we knew that then. Subconsciously. We had made it through the worst of it. The hospital phase had come to an end. We were still standing. We still had hope. We were full of it. We must have known we would continue to push forward toward the good. So, as we stood on the edge of our new world, we smiled. Held one another’s hands. We pushed our shoulders back and looked straight ahead into the future. Ready to face what life would bring. Head on. That is all that we can ever do. Be as brave as we can be. Adapt as much as we can adapt. Give in to the healing process, and let go of all we cling to. Give in to life. Life is not meant to be controlled. It is not meant to be easy. It is not meant to be perfect. It is meant to be lived, and living can be extremely messy.