In case I forget.


The first thing I remember.
July 12, 2006, 1:19 pm
Filed under: Brain Bits, Faces, Husband, Memory

The first thing after it happened is a fuzzy, dreamlike picture in my head. Actually more like a tiny 5-10 second clip that only happened inside my brain – there is no video, only an awareness of a very low level of conscious thought.

I know I am inside from the quality of the light – the whiteness. I don’t remember seeing the whiteness, only being aware of it. Apparently I had a right arm. No other body but apparently a right arm. And it was strange. It was tremendously heavy. And from the elbow to the end, it was about the circumference of a basketball. I feel like I waved it around in the air. I am told I tried to but was tightly tied down and couldn’t. I am told I struggled a lot.

I don’t actually remember the pain. I only remember the memory of the pain.

The next thing after it happened is a true memory. It is from the perspective of my own eyes, even though I didn’t at the time have any idea who’s eyes I was looking through. It is a face. I am laying down on my back. The face is looking down at me. It is a kind face, and I desperately want to know that I know the face. I’m almost sure I know this face. I remember being so incredibly afraid that I didn’t know for certain who the face belonged to, but I knew it was the most important face there was. I remember asking the face, “Are you Husband?”

And I remember the face changing into my husband’s face and I remember his voice, but not quite his voice. Instead, a voice wracked with pain and emotion. A voice I had never heard before, not in 13 years. And I remember the smile because it was the smile I know and the mouth said “Yes” and maybe “Honey” or “Wife” but I know it said “Yes” and then “I’m Husband.”  I think that his fingers touched my face then but I’m not sure. Maybe I made that up because it comforted me to do so. But it’s something he would have done naturally, if he was allowed to touch my face at that time. I don’t know.

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