Dear Darling Ones,
Matthew Sweet updated his GoFundMe, and much like he has for the last 30+ years of my life he is expressing my feelings in ways I cannot.
He said about his stroke:
As I learned to walk, bathe, strengthen my legs, learn what hard work really was, I cried many times at my terrible fate and yet I also was so thankful for the fate I had in life, because it was a wonderful fate, and I was so lucky and found everything I wanted again and again and again. Not too many people I suppose can say that. But you have taught me what care is. Caring about others, caring about what can be done, caring about what happens. In a way, I never thought anything mattered but caring does matter and of that I now am very aware.
~Matthew Sweet
Me too, Matthew. I am one of the people who can say that.
Much like living with the repercussions of a stroke, the update is heartbreaking and hopeful. Despite the brain damage, my brain has never been better at comfortably holding to diamaterically opposed ideas at once.
The stroke was awful, but realizing how much I’m care for is amazing. Being suddenly disabled is the worst, but I’m so lucky to be alive to experience it.
The part about realizations in his update really hit home, because I’m still grappling with my own realizations. He writes, “I’ve lived through the day where I realized I may never play guitar again, I’ve lived through the day where I realized I may never draw a straight line again or enjoy the pasttime that developed over just the last year of my life.”
We all live through days where we do something for the last time and often don’t realize it in the moment. When you’ve had a stroke you recognize those realizations in real time, which may make them more painful.
I’ve lived through the day when I realized I may never be able to walk unassisted again or even walk more than a few feet at all. It sucked and continues to suck. I may never have clear, undistorted vision again. I may never be able to read an entire book with my eyes.
The may nevers are endless and yet, I keep adding the may because never seems so permanent and, well, I don’t know for sure.
Never gonna give you up,
Jodi