Thanking the ones you love

Wow, how is it Wednesday already? I’ve been meaning to write this post all week, and suddenly the week is half over.

Regardless, I have felt a bit different this week. Yes, I am always a bit different, but this week I have felt more thankful for those I love than I have in a while. Not that I typically am ungrateful for my loved ones, but you know what I mean.

You all know that I recently started my gratitude list and my steps toward becoming a better person. I am still doing very well with all of my self-imposed steps—although I don’t take the stairs as much anymore I am working out regularly and making small changes that do big things. But even so, it is so easy to get into the routine of life and forget about all of those things that make life worth living. Until something shakes you awake. Literally.

Let me take you back to 4:30 a.m. Saturday morning.

Brian and I had headed to bed around 1:30 a.m., after having some friends over Friday night (and into Saturday morning). I was sound asleep when I thought I heard my phone vibrating, followed by Brian asking who was calling me at the crack of dawn. I peered over the edge of my pillow and realized my little sister had tried to call me twice. Cue instant alertness. I called her back immediately and found out my stepdad had a seizure. My sister had already called the paramedics, but she wanted me there asap.

Now, my stepdad has had seizures before (he has an unexplained seizure disorder) so this wasn’t anything new to me. I am a one woman seizure patrol. I told her I’d be there in five minutes and jumped out of bed. That’s when I noticed that Brian had also gotten out of bed and had started to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. The same Brian who had to leave to shoot a wedding at 9 a.m., a mere four and a half hours away. Stay in bed, I told him, I’ve got this. I quickly realized there was no point in arguing—he was coming with me whether I liked it or not.

My stepdad was fine by the time I got to the house. The paramedics checked him out and said that while he had bit his tongue pretty bad, he seemed fine otherwise. While I had rushed in to make sure he was alright, Brian stayed outside to update the neighbors who had woken up due to the lights and brake sounds of fire trucks, squad cars, and the ambulance. I didn’t even have to ask him to, it was just done. The medics said we might still want to take him to the hospital anyway, just to check out his mouth since they couldn’t see much due to all the blood.

Fast forward three hours. Brian and I had sent the medics on their way, taken Frank to the hospital and waited while they ran tests, checked him out, and contacted his neurologist, and dropped him back off at home. Thankfully everything was fine.

At this point, it was already 7:30—there was no sense in going back to bed. So, I figured the least I could do was take Brian out to breakfast. So, we went to a little diner that I hadn’t been to in years. Even though I had the full intention of paying, I realized after receiving the bill that they only took cash, and of course I had none. So poor Brian had to pay for his own thank you breakfast. I apologized for the way the morning started, and for the never-ending insanity with my family. He yelled at me for saying sorry and told me that this is what people do when they love each other. So I thanked him.

A long story for what felt like a tremendously long Saturday morning. But it reminded me, yet again, how grateful I am to have someone like Brian in my life. Not that I ever really forget, but it is so easy to take it for granted until a Saturday morning seizure reminds you.

So, Saturday’s gratitude entry?

“I am grateful to have Brian by my side”

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