Have you ever looked out the window after a storm has just past? The moment between the darkness and light in the hidden blue sky? The contrast of billowing rain clouds, swirling between those hopeful piercing rays of light? It's magnificent; grand in splendor, as the brilliance of the sun is truly magnified by its opposite. Isn't life like this? The joy in the trial of life's storms.
Since my father's survival from an AVM hemorrhage last fall, my family and I search for the joy in this storm. The storm is slow, then raging, and yet, still hovering over us as my mother experienced a stroke last month. But, I see joy in the storm.
I don't always understand what my dad is talking about. It is as if for him, his aphasia has swept away all the nouns from his lips. Yet, one night, after dinner at his home, he began searching through the cupboards for something to eat. He motioned with his hands to his mouth saying, "It's good, and you go, crunch, crunch, and say, oh, that's good!" My sister and I had no idea what he was talking about. He kept walking over to the microwave, from the cupboard, opening the refrigerator, repeating the same thing, "It's good, and you go, crunch, crunch, and say, oh, that's good!" "You want a hot dog? French fries?" He kept saying no, increasingly frustrated by our inability to understand his new language.
At the moment when he was about to give up on us, a friend, who was over for dinner, came in and saw our struggle. He immediately said, "Popcorn!" "Yes!!" my dad said, "But, I don't want it anymore." We laughed. Popcorn joy in an aphasia storm!