Shiny tile floors

I was quite nervous about traveling on January 6th, as that date most significantly changed my life and my family’s. Though marking 365 days later only holds significance for us, it denotes a day that has profoundly affected us all. We decided to escape the ice and cold for a few days, trying to forget any reminders of geography, weather, or circumstance. We enjoyed family time in sunny weather, pretending, for large parts of the day, that last year’s events never occurred.

However, fleeting moments would bring a wave of slight nausea, triggering flashbacks. I remembered the concerned gaze of our friend and incredible doctor who first updated us when we arrived at the hospital. Jennifer immediately recognized her, though I was slower to do so due to her ER trauma surgeon attire. When she spoke, it all clicked, and I felt immense gratitude that she was there in those critical moments as our kids arrived by ambulance. I could vividly recall my slowly moving feet, seemingly of their own accord, on the shiny ICU tile floors—sometimes stepping, sometimes just drifting as I moved back and forth between our children’s rooms. Questions raced through my mind: Would they wake up? Would they survive?

I recall speaking to a police officer who entered the ICU, wanting to speak to the kids. I responded, “So would I,” appreciative of her efforts but feeling her presence as a stark intrusion. What mattered more than my kids being okay? The following days were a blur, yet more ice fell, and as I drove back to the hospital after brief rests, I was horrified by how recklessly others drove in such conditions. Didn’t they recognize the danger? This reaction was undoubtedly intense, but as I entered the hospital during those initial days, every step on those shiny floors echoed the shock of that tragic day.

These memories have replayed nearly every day this past year, intensifying around the anniversary. As both kids showed improvement, we grappled with the uncertainty of recovery timelines associated with brain injuries, which vary widely. The path to “100%” may look different as the brain works its mysterious magic.

Watching my son, mostly dealing with physical issues like nerve pain and numbness, out in the sun, his scars from multiple intrusive actions served as stark reminders of that day. Observing my daughter and son together, laughing and joking, highlighted the tight bond forged by their shared, though thankfully unremembered, ordeal.

A year on, while the immediate panic has subsided and the vividness of those shiny floor memories has dulled, I still think daily of everyone who played a part in my kids’ recovery. The list of people to thank is extensive, and I may never fully express our gratitude, but sharing these thoughts hopefully begins to acknowledge how fortunate we feel for the overwhelming support from family, friends, and the community. This year, we also celebrated with Brooks’s girlfriend, who was a constant support through the toughest times.

Oh yes, and a happy birthday to Brody, whose celebration last year was overshadowed by the chaos!