I know I promised you all a #NaNoWriMo update today. I have something a little more important on my mind, and I hope you’ll bear with me.
See, a year ago today I died.
Weird, right? I mean if I were still dead it would be kind of hard to use an iPad to make this blog post.
I’ve been in recovery mode for nearly a year–people who don’t really know me that well have been saying things like: “This is a big week…it might be tough. Are you ready?”
Fuck yeah, I’m ready.
I got a second chance at life. Of course I’m fucking ready. I don’t have time to wallow in self pity.
I got to see my son’s first year a college and my daughter participate in Water Polo at Harvard. I got to say “I love you” to my wife quite a few hundred more times. I quit cigarettes. I got to learn more about writing and to actually write–publishing three stories with two more already under contract for 2017. I read 65 more books. I lost 30 pounds. I spent more time with my family. I played with my cats. I worked at a shelter. I hugged a lot of people.
I got to see my dad one last time before he left us in March.
In short, I lived. Probably more than I have in years.
Yes, there are still challenges both physically and neurologically.
But I’m getting better.
So many people have been a part of this recovery…the list would go on for pages. Twenty doctors worked (and are still working on) my case, family and friends visited and encouraged me, work colleagues stayed in touch, author-friends who have been my inspiration…
…thank you all. You have no idea how grateful I am to have you in my life.
Today I celebrate the first anniversary of my passing.
May there be many more anniversaries in the future.
Back to writing.