As the week progresses, the reality of my mom's permanent medical condition is starting to set in. And, with that, the beginning of an extended grieving process. Now, I am flooded with memories of my own past interactions with her and laments about future interactions that will no longer be possible. And when I next see her, that will mark another setting in of reality.
My wife has been such a star through this process, ever sensitive to these emotional nuances, ever there for me when I start to tear up, ever assuring me in profoundly genuine ways. God, I am lucky to have her.
My sister told me that yesterday, my dad got a chance to see my mom for the first time since the accident. They had been under the same roof but on separate floors since earlier this week, and with my dad imminently being transferred to an entirely different hospital, they decided to wheel him into the intensive care unit to see her. My sister said it wasn't clear how clearly she could be seen, given all the medical equipment, but that he was able to squeeze her hand, and that that seemed to mean a lot to him.
I can only imagine. But I too have a wife, and she means the world to me. Last night, my dad got to hold hands with his wife, and I got to be held by mine. And, amidst the terrible circumstances that this week has brought, both were very much needed.