Tomorrow Could Be So Different

Twice in July, I have been reminded by tragedy that every day we wake up is not just a new day; it's a precious gift, no matter how challenging or how ordinary.

July 13,  a friend drowned at a cottage weekend. A highly-talented musician with no more than 45 years behind him. I have since said to myself during my commute to work in the morning, or on a crappy day when things don't seem to be going my way, that I have this day as a gift and it's a day Steve didn't get to have. Nothing is really that bad. I am fortunate to have this day.

Again, today, I have been reminded.

Nineteen days ago, a high school friend Jeff, aged 48, was living his life, going to work and doing his thing. The next day, July 29, he suffered a severe stroke causing serious impact on his ability to think, talk, walk and swallow food and liquid--activities that we practise multiple times. Daily. We take them for granted. In a way, we have to not think about them every time as life gives us many things to ponder, process and pull through. We can't worry about the things that are so automatic or we'd never get anything done. But. We can think about it once in a while and be grateful. Eighteen days ago, Jeff's life changed to something completely different. That could be one of us tomorrow. Or tomorrow could be  a day of great things.

Thankfully, he's alive, and I hear from his younger sister that he can walk a little bit and seems a little better than when it first happened. But he has brain damage, trouble with his speech, some paralysis and still needs a feeding tube to allow him to swallow. His life will never be the same. It will be a different life. I hope his condition continues to improve well enough to arrive at a better quality of life than when this assault on his system first happened.

And then, there is Kelda.

Kelda is also from my high school though a number of years younger than my 47 years. She is an intelligent, kind soul whose life also changed overnight. On June 16, 2012, she survived a serious car crash and was not expected to survive. She is thriving, though she communicates by mouthing words--something she had to practise and learn. She takes the smallest baby steps a grown-up could take because of her condition, but her will and her support network won't give up.

Her story is and continues to be an inspiration.

So, Aug.17, 2015 is around the corner. It's a dreaded Monday. The weekend is over and the work week must begin. But, there are many people out there who would give anything to have a Monday where they can get up, get themselves ready and go to their job and participate in the world.

If you can smile, swallow, walk, talk, think, kiss, hug and communicate with your loved ones, you are doing all right.