Today marks the anniversaries of tragedy on large and small scales.
D-Day, 2500 Allied lives lost.
Shawnadithit, the last known Beothuk, died of tuberculosis.
Certainly puts the day in perspective for me, because it’s one year ago today for my personal “D-Day”, my ALS diagnosis. Yes, it was a terrible day, I can hardly bring myself to read what I wrote then. I walked into the doctor’s office that day using only a cane for balance, and today I’m in a power chair.
But I can’t look at today as a sad anniversary, or reflect on all I’ve lost.
I’m really quite pleased with myself for being alive, because truly didn’t think I had it in me to survive this long, mentally or physically.
I’m grateful for the inner peace I’ve achieved by staring down my own death.
I’m grateful I have not lost myself, my humour, my compassion, to this beast.
I’m grateful I can still see the beauty in the world.
I’m grateful for my spiritual journey and the comfort it brings me.
I’m grateful for the ability to enjoy each day and live in the moment.
I’m grateful for the Big Dog girls.
I’m grateful for the love and support of friends, near and far.
I’m grateful for my family.
I’m grateful for Mike, more than ever, he is the reason I live.