“Thank you for finding these letters,” Vernon said with some emotion today as I reread some of the bigger ones to him today (this is our third day in a row reading the letters and he seemed to know what to expect a little more each day.) I want to record this because in my mind, I feel like I ams seeing a real leap in his spirit over the past few days, and it comes from his own words read back to himself. I marvel each day because there seems to be a strengthened awakening. In mine and Vernon’s hearts, this makes so much sense, because we are the kind of people who speak from the heart. Why shouldn’t Vernon be moved to memory when his own most-alive-heart-put-into-words speaks life to his older distant-and-damaged self?
Among plans for the future, Maki, and me, one of the messages that kept coming up in those letters was the interest in painting again. I was painting (barely for a living) at the time we met and he was very taken by that fact. He kept calling me “painter girl” or something like that. I think he must have romanticized it too, as it would never have been enough to support a family on…I hadn’t arrived or anything, but I loved that he held my work in such high esteem. For an artist, that’s enough to make one feel loved, right there! Anyway, I’m picking up on the messages now too, messages in these old letters, that remind me he had a reoccurring daydream of painting again and that it would be part of our lives together. He went to grad school right after we married and threw himself into typeface design, while I dabbled and then realized I had no ready audience for my work in the UK and started working other jobs that I found interesting and helped pay the bills. Painting drifted more to the background for both of us. When we moved to America, he brought it up again. “I’m ready to paint again. I think your parents working in their studio offer a great opportunity and inspiration.” But then of course, a money-making job had to happen here too and all that got pushed to the sidelines again. Right now, the only paintings we have of Vernon’s time with us as a family are on the living room wall (2) and in Maki’s bedroom (3).
Today after we sat in the June sunshine, rereading his letters (at his own request) he felt up to painting for a bit. This time he used his right hand, which usually stumps his movement— but today, it flourished. I’m guessing this is the fruit of the past few weeks of restorative therapy on the omnicycle …they do insist he uses both hands, or at least tries to. He’s also using his left hand to wash the brush and load the paint.
It’s relaxing to watch him, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure it relaxes him too. Not that he is always in the mood for this. Today we sat for an hour reading old letters before he was in the mood. And that was after sending his RNA away because he didn’t want to go to the gym (I made him promise to be cool about it when asked to go again this afternoon. Hope he remembered.)
Here is the boat. Synnove, who had known him first in art school in Bergen when he was painting full time, has told me that he always painted the background of his pieces. He seems to continue to do that in his recent work. So interesting…and also kind of brilliant, no?
It’s not just romance and painting that has come up in these letters. Maki, who was quite young at the time they were written, keeps coming up in the handwriting. It’s quite remarkable, actually, that I have actual words to share with Maki from Vernon’s heart over a decade ago. I knew reading them touched Vernon (and me) but I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to tell Maki. But he hasn’t missed much in this journey, so I pulled him aside last night to read whatever I could find about him in this pile of old letters. He hasn’t told me yet what he thought of them, perhaps he never will. But he listened intently. Today, I told Vernon, as I re read those parts to him, that I had passed them on to Maki as well. Vernon’s eyes filled up with his dry-tears and he thanked me.
So basically…what has been happening for the past while, and I would say increasingly after finding the letters, is that Vernon resonates most from his heart. He is interested only in deep and important parts of humanity. He wants to talk about love, family, connections, even God. He gets bored talking about the weather or what he considers inane subjects, details he can’t relate to. He connects, he relaxes, when he is talked to from the heart. I marvel at this…but it seems like this has been the portal of communication to his mind. Through the heart, through the soul. I’m so thankful that in Vernon’s injury, this has not been taken. In fact, in some ways, he seems more purely connected to truth than anyone I know.
In some ways, I said. But still, there are those. 🙂
“He who works with his hands is a laborer. He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman. He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.” —Francis of Assisi
Still actively pursuing an organized household, I finally got down to a box of old paper files in the garage. It’s not where I thought I’d put them, but in it, I discovered a large plastic envelope filled with letters Vernon and I had written to each other in the early days. Sweet relief and gratitude flooded over! I had looked everywhere I could imagine they’d bee and for months, I’ve had this low grade ache that I might have lost them in a move…forever. My mother assured me they were somewhere in my possession and I’d find them eventually. I took that to mean “when the time was right” and I would remind myself of that whenever I’d get sad about their loss. But these were really the only things I cared about finding. Anyway, it seems the right time finally happened. Hallelujah!
So many good things in there. So many good feelings attached. I brought the envelope in to Vernon this morning. Remember, Vernon and I started out in a very long distance relationship, there was a lot of communicating through the internet and phone, and every once in awhile he’d send a long letter, penned out in teeny tiny print. Treasures. Maybe we put a lot more into those because of the distance, who knows? They certainly meant a lot.
I read a few to Vernon today, who was absolutely amazed that he had written all those things. He seemed to marvel at the voice of his younger self, that sharper brain, all the courage and the dreaminess to boot. I think perhaps we have a glimpse of our best selves are when we are in love, especially in the beginning. Not always our wisest selves, mind you, but our most confident and sensitive and hopeful and brave. Vernon picked up on this today as he listened to the words from his 39 year old self. He kept saying: “That’s amazing! I wrote that…wow!” I had to write down this quote so I wouldn’t forget it: “Amazing that I was so open to you about marrying you. That was a big chance I took.”
Can a younger self strengthen the older self? I believe it can when the timing is right and one is ready to listen. It happens in psychotherapy all the time! I could tell that his inner self was being strengthened by his own writing, both when he he originally expressed his thoughts in these letters and yesterday, when he heard them again. He spoke of his love for me, a future life in America (we ended up in England instead at the time,) lots about Maki, whom he only saw sometimes back then, a discovery of Faith, and new career dreams. But mostly he spoke about love. Big bold love.
“Love conquers all; always has always has done and always will. I know in my heart that my love for you is true and in good faith, so I have no fear of the difficulty that some say can lurk and exist. I do not believe in fear, I believe in love. Fear and love cannot be together anymore than light and dark can be together. Fear vanishes in the presence of true love. So I focus on the love I have for you and grows more and more the more I open my heart to you and the possibilities of our love. I open my arms to you and all the challenges that may or may not come our way and I love you and those challenges.
I too am strengthened by his words. His younger self certainly is reaching my older self. But unlike Vernon, I have the gift of remembering.
On a lighter note, here is a bit from one of his early letters. I’m so glad he took the time to write such long, rambling missives. Thank you, younger Vernon, for doing this for me.
A Questionnaire!!! Please fill out the following and I can assess you. 🙂 Be honest tho! Besides, you look and sound great, so I can allow you more than a few discrepancies.
1. You come home to find that I didn’t do the washing up, do you?
a. See a red mist and think I am the laziest person in the world?
b. Think: ‘urgh washing up’— I don’t blame him for not doing it.
c. Not notice that I didn’t wash up.
2. You buy a new item of clothing, how should I react?
a. However I want.
b. Tell you that you look amazing if you really don’t.
c. Kiss you. You know that I know that I love the things you buy.
Hmm..Dumb questionnaire. Ok, I can’t think of more questions.
3. Ahh! I start to ask you a questionnaire, but can only think of 2 lousy questions, do you?
a. Think I am hopeless for starting something and not finishing it?
b. Think ‘what a dumb questionnaire. What a dumb guy’?
c. Think ‘I want to do a questionnaire for Vernon’?
4. I want to marry you. What do you think?
a. He is a nut. Run away!!
b. What shall I wear?
c. Why?
5. Ok, so where shall we live, Allison? Come on…come up with a plan. We should start to plan. Hehe. What shall we do? Seriously, what shall we do?
a. Take it easy, see what happens, see where it goes?
b. Don’t wait, jump into it, nothing to lose?
c. Back off, it’s all just a silly dream?
I am sort of hovering around ‘b’ to be honest. 🙂 But that’s because of my daft romantic nature. I guess, I guess I know, you share a similarly romantic streak.
I brought the kids up to see Vernon on Sunday. It was overcast and damp, but Vernon wanted to get up and go outside regardless. It wasn’t his best day. There was a lot of shouting from Vernon and crying from Justine. On days like this, I wonder what I’ve done to bring the children up…have I made things worse for everyone? But I can’t know before I get there, and I keep thinking…this isn’t all about me, it’s about them and their dad, and if worse comes to worse, they have the opportunity to work through it. That sounds great in theory, but in the moment, part of me cries for them all, even as I’m snapping at Vernon about his manners or trying to make honest-but-light with the kids.
Maki leaves for his summer home, New Zealand, in less than two weeks, and as we will be away next weekend, this was the last Sunday for them to see each other for months. I’m thankful Maki goes with the flow like he does. He rarely complains. And even in these pictures, I can see the love between them.
Vernon, from Day One, is Team Maki. He told me last week that no matter what Maki decides to do in life or where he goes, he’ll be behind him all the way.Vernon’s got the best parenting suggestions, even in his state. He seems most concerned that the kids are alright…especially Maki (as I know I have written before.)
Justine, on the other hand, was nervous around Vernon due to his agitation and shouting. She relaxed by the time I took this photo. For the first time. she cried out loud —to me but in front of Vernon: “It’s NOT FAIR that I have to have a dad in a nursing home!” She’s held it together for a long time, but now, she’s growing up.
That said, Vernon does apologize profusely when he calms down and realizes he’s hurt someone’s feelings. But it takes work to get him there…there are so many lessons in communication that I don’t always pass. Especially on an awkward day with the three of them. But that’s life, right? You can’t plan your life around the way someone will act. It’s all an improvisation. We just have to show up.
Vernon fell from his chair at dialysis this morning, so he was later sent to the ER for a closer look in case he’d damaged anything. It’s medical protocol, but I keep thinking: he’s only 49, what bones is he going to break at that distance? Still, that’s how it works and those are the rules. He’s fine, by the way. Just hoping there will be less agitation tomorrow (its been going on for a few days straight again.)
changingtheconceptualand/oremotionalviewpoint in relation to which a situation is experiencedandplacing it in a differentframethatfitsthe“facts” of a concretesituationequallywell,therebychangingitsentiremeaning.
I brought Vernon a book that I believe I’d bought for his birthday a few years back. I’m not sure if he ever read the whole thing, but he’d been a fan of the writer. “David and Goliath” by Malcolm Gladwell.
As usual when read to, Vernon was very interested and didn’t want me to stop. I could see his brain trying to engage. This is the perfect kind of book to read to him right now because it’s intellectual, but gives its message through interesting stories about real people and their approach to overcoming obstacles. Here are a few gems:
“Courage is not something that you already have that makes you brave when the tough times start. Courage is what you earn when you’ve been through the tough times and you discover they aren’t so tough after all.”
“Giants are not what we think they are. The same qualities that appear to give them strength are often the sources of great weakness.”
“As the playwright George Bernard Shaw once put it: “The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”
“There is a set of advantages that have to do with material resources, and there is a set that have to do with the absence of material resources- and the reason underdogs win as often as they do is that the latter is sometimes every bit the equal of the former.”
I wondered how much Vernon was gaining in his soul from all this. Could he apply himself to the message of the underdog having equalized strengths, with the right reframing. I asked him if he identified more with David or Goliath in the story. “Goliath,” he said. Why? “Because I have abilities.” Ok, maybe he wasn’t following completely. Or maybe he was.
“Much of what we consider valuable in our world arises out of these kinds of lopsided conflicts, because the act of facing overwhelming odds produces greatness and beauty…We consistently get these kinds of conflicts wrong. We misread them. We misinterpret them. Giants are not what we think they are. The same qualities that appear to give them strength are often the sources of great weakness. And the fact of being an underdog can change people in ways that we often fail to appreciate: it can open doors and create opportunities and educate and enlighten and make possible what might otherwise have seemed unthinkable.”
Here is a picture of Vernon on Tuesday this week. He had somehow smuggled his sunglasses in his pocket. I am still trying to imagine how that happened. Did he demand/request the EMTs to hand them over? Had he hid them in his bed? Unlikely. Was he thinking ahead? This is the first time I’ve seen him bring something of his own with him.
Maybe I’m reading too much into things. You know why, though, right? Because I’m feeling hopeful again. It’s always hard to succumb to hope when it’s most often such a fleeting thing, but I have to admit it: I’m feeling hopeful. I haven’t noticed his mood swings as much lately, and I notice his detailed memory has improved slightly. He can recall my name if I make him look closely at me long enough—so we’ve been doing that instead of my giving him spelling hints. He doesn’t always remember his history correctly, but he seems to be connecting to some past emotional truths that make sense in context. Most importantly, he recognizes that his memory is better than it was, and he also acknowledges that it was very bad before. I’m not explaining that well, I’m sure, but I notice subtle improvements and a new sort of acceptance within him.
I’ve always appreciated the underdog, though its not always fun to be one. Seems to be the path we are on, can’t change it anyway. Sometimes success is just a matter of reframing.
“We have, I think, a very rigid and limited definition of what an advantage is. We think of things as helpful that actually aren’t and think of other things as unhelpful that in reality leave us stronger and wiser.” —Malcolm Gladwell
Barbara called me this morning so I could have a chat with Vernon on the dialysis chair during her watch. I reminded him of the party yesterday. He admitted he didn’t remember it, but also that he was thankful, it was so nice that we’d done that for him. After he thought he hung up, I could hear him relaying the conversation to Barbara. “They had a party for me yesterday. My friends came.”
It had been kind of a last minute idea, when the Logies called to say they’d put aside the day for whatever we wanted. I would have invited more friends I know Vernon would have enjoyed, but I wasn’t sure how how overwhelmed he might feel or how long he would last. So we only called a couple of inner-circle folk who had spent significant time with him…people who might even jog his memory from before. It was such a success though, that I would love to start offering open house invitations on certain Sundays if others want to join in.
I always assumed Vernon was an introvert, but I’m not so sure about that anymore. Vernon needs his rest between things, but yesterday, he sat straight up in that chair for about four hours enjoying the buzz. When his RNA came to take him for a spin in the gym, I waived the privilege. How often does one get a party for the mere sake of being around? He might not remember it, but I think it did him a lot of good. He certainly seemed to enjoy basking in his friendships…even if he did need some reminders and introductions.
I also got in a small but angry fight with an elderly gentleman who “pays $4000 a month for peace and quiet” and didn’t want our party on his courtyard. I’m sorry, I feel bad that old folks who have no other place to go have to put up with some fabulous music and the sound of children playing and people visiting and laughing once in awhile. I’ll be kind to the elderly and disabled, but in this case we are neighbors and have equal rights. Vernon has the right to some enjoyment in his life at the expense of a bit of noise once in awhile. I was livid but still don’t feel bad for shouting back at an old man. Really! We are still neighbors in this place called life so make some noise and deal with each other’s noise…there’s enough room for everyone!
I had made a big deal about this month and this special weekend. I’m not completely there, but I did do MOST of my deep house-cleaning and putting-everything-in-its-place. My mind has been getting clearer by the day, even showing me room for new projects and ideas. This very morning, I bought new towels as a reward.
Just as we are marking Vernon’s second anniversary since his accident, recognizing how much he has changed since a mere two years ago…I wanted to mark our our progress as a threesome at home, the kids and me. They say when a person sustains a brain injury (and I suppose any other traumatic event) their whole family experiences it as well…it just can’t be medically scanned as such. So if we look at things that way, its our second-life birthday as well.
At the invitation of a friend, we spent the afternoon riding a horse. Why not, right? I’ve heard its therapeutic. It certainly is an adventure! And something new that we’ve never done together. I hadn’t ridden a horse since I was Maki’s age, when I used to ride frequently. As soon as I was on the saddle, my body remembered those days…and even earlier, forgotten memories of trail riding with cousins at ten or so. How wild is that? The more we try to connect with a future life, the more we can connect with our past. It’s got to tie together somewhere.
Anyway, the kids loved it too. Here are a few photos from this afternoon. I love having new adventures on a Monday afternoon. I think we are up for more!
Big deals should be made a big deal of. This guy has come A LONG way. Let’s celebrate! Happy Second Life Birthday #2, Vernon!
You are so loved by so many. I know you won’t remember this day in detail, but here are some pictures to help you believe this: you’ve got some good friends.
A special cover of Vernon's fav song 'Waterloo Sunset' by friend and singer/song-writer Ian McGlynn. All proceeds support Vernon's recovery! Donate what you can and download a beautiful song in return.
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