Letter from A1 to A2

SHERNICE’S WRITING PROMPT: I invite you to write a letter to your past self from before you got your brain injury. Think about who he/she used to be. Tell them all the changes that have happened in your life since you last saw them and all that is different about who you are now. Tell them what you miss about them and what you do not miss about them. Tell them what is better and what is worse now. Tell them something you know now that you wish they knew earlier.

Dear Angela1, I love you, I miss you and I must warn you.  You believe God does not give you more than you can handle.  You also wish that God didn't think you were so tough!  Life's greatest losses and hardships lie unsuspectingly ahead, so you may want to hold your husband's hand a little longer tonight.  You won't remember him, your last moments together, or many of the months before the car crash that kills him.  You won't remember what side of the bed he slept on, his favorite meal you prepared, or his pet nickname for you.

I do miss your carefree spirit, your wildness and your late nights spent dancing at clubs or drinking at bars in New York City.  On the other hand, I do not miss the breakneck speed by which you moved through life.  The heels, the daily train rides, the careful application of eyeliner, the late night meals.  

Angela now has a much healthier relationship with sleep, and strives to get a minimum of 8 hours a night, with a daily mid-day nap.  Angela2 cannot function properly without it, as neurofatigue is a devastating deficit you will learn how to manage.  

Congratulations Angela, you are going to fall madly in love again, with a man who shockingly reminds you of your late husband Rich.  In fact, he sometimes thanks the spirit of Rich for bringing us together at the Adirondack lake house where we met and fell in love.  I wish you could have known that this amazing love would be yours someday, to help ease your devastating heartbreak.  

You have grown closer to God, and you trust she will always be at your side even in the darkest hours... You continue to deal with PTSD and fears of someday losing my husband Augustus.  You have seen the miracles that can unfold when you let go, and let God.  Just please let me hold onto my Augustus for a long long while first...