Turkey Day Ramblings

It's Thanksgiving morning, and I'm sitting here with a heavy heart, wondering how I'm going to get through the day. 

the new view

I'm beginning to realize the trick is not to have any preconceived notions about what today is going to be like. Mr. Ginley and I will never be the same again. We've taken to calling life prior to the stroke "the beforetimes." It was another life ago. It sucks that this is our life now, but at least we have a life together, and there is hope that he'll come home to me one day. 

But for now, we have this, and this is what we have to work with. 
I'm going to eat my breakfast, do the dishes, take care of some laundry, have my coffee and read the funnies. Then I'm going to go and be with my husband on Thanksgiving. 

I am thankful that his mind is still there, even though things are jumbled and the rest of him isn't working so well.

I'm thankful for my health, because my ability to help him through this is the most important thing right now. I'm allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to be heartbroken. But I can't curl up in a ball and hide because that's not going to do anyone any good. 

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And now we jump ahead a bit to Friday night. The snow has been piling up, it's been a cold, ugly day, and I've shed my share of tears. Then the phone rings, and it's Mr. Ginley saying excitedly, "I'm moving my foot! I moved it again! And again!"

Of course this doesn't mean he's going to jump out of bed and run a marathon, but it's a very good sign that his brain is trying to reconnect with his errant foot. It's a victory, and we'll take it.

And so it seems I have another thing to be thankful for, after all.