” I somehow find you and I collide” -Howie Day
They didn’t know I saw. Working on confrontational naming; a deck of picture cards and the sun piercing in the window. He had the given socks on; the ones with the grip on the bottom and the fuzzy fur was all loose and extended at the toes. His wife close beside, helping to translate and repeat as I’d ask the question.
“What is this called?” “What do we do with it?” “How do we use it?”
Given the extra processing time, he looked at her and she would repeat the question. He then looked over at his two kids laying on the bed playing with their iPads. Seeing the longing, the despair, the despondency in his eyes-I moved on quickly to the next picture and tried to lighten the mood with a comment about the hard to work blinds. And in the quiet of the moment he reached his sock covered foot to hers and started to caress her ankle. Nothing spoken. She smiled. He was looking down. I almost felt like I should leave the room. His sons looking on as their young father learned to talk again. Instead of tears, frustration, giving up; he took a moment to rub her ankle and sneak his foot up the bottom of her pant leg. At that moment that’s what he needed most. To know she was there. To feel her skin through the layer of fuzzy sock in the quiet and unknowns. And that was enough. He then nodded for the next one. And we kept going.
A hospital can be cold in temperature and shivering with fear. Anticipating those next steps. Will home be possible; back to the comforts and familiarity, or will there be another place of unexpected transition where hopes will be delayed in this new normal; this place in which you were thrusted into without any prior notice.
Sometimes all we need to know to keep going is that we have someone in our corner. That we don’t walk through the darkness alone. Even when the world looks nothing like we had expected or pictured; sitting in a chair you never saw for yourself. Finding the strength to keep naming. To keep practicing. To keep going.
And that’s exactly what he did.
With her by his side.
There was a peace in that ankle rub as she smiled on…that everything was going to be okay.
I believe it will be too.
I hope you do as well.
Hugs and Love,
Kristina
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