She will not walk again.
Broken. As in, "those vertebrae were broken, shattered, upon impact."
She won't feel that again.
Anyone close to my sister-in-law remembers these events vividly. Despite the passing of time, we recall each desperate second, every gut-wrenching hour of waiting. We still feel each individual tear that rolled down a cheek and the sting from our reddened eyes. Voices still echo quietly, hauntingly, every "what if?" and "why?".
We ached for her, with her. We were angry on her behalf. We worried and scrambled for the best thing, those next steps. What to do?
We absorbed volumes about spinal cord injury in a very short time.
During those first days, we strained with each tick of the clock. Days were interminable, weeks even longer. The future was shrouded in a thick fog, and we had no vision of what life looked like on the other side.
Today, the struggles have not vanished. But the towering pyramid of pain and fear has been reinforced, steadied, with a new found strength. A new normal. And today, my sister-in-law returns to work for the very first time since the accident.
She will drive herself there. She will play an important role in the education of young children once again. It is her calling. She will laugh and smile and feel proud of all that she accomplished.
We will be the crowd at her side in spirit, and we will feel with her from afar. We are here cheerleaders, now and forever. So very proud of this new poignant step.
This week's Write on Edge RemembRED prompt:
Write about a time when something was irrecoverably broken and the ensuing scramble.
I had to dedicate today to my SIL, and this prompt fit right in.
