Inside Joke

Thinking today about Amber. For days, weeks, we had wondered, prayed; wracked brains, prayed; packed up her things, prayed some more; I cannot begin to tell you how many times I had wanted to bash my head against the wall in frustration. "Where are you?" was a constant refrain, fear for the worst a constant companion, and anger and sadness constant emotions. "Stressful" doesn't begin to cover that time for all of us who know her; "out of my freaking mind" may come closer, for me.

And then, she was found, bodily whole. Oh the joy! Pure and unadulterated. More godly souls than I may compare it to the rapture Christ must feel at His children's homecomings; for me, it was like this physical weight had been lifted from my chest, a missing piece found.

But not all the pieces were there yet. (And still aren't.) Amnesia? That sounds like the plot of a second rate daytime soap! Surely not real life? And yet. My joy was tempered, thinking "at least I know she's alive," but she was not "she" yet.

Slowly, slowly it began to come back. Who she was. Who her family was. But would she know her friends? Not all. Not even most. But some? Would she know me?

Simply said, she did. She knew my name, knew who I was to her. Knew my face, in her mind at least....but many faces in her mind did not match the current face of the person in question. Can I begin to relay to you the fear of that? Of having everyone around you be familiar and completely different at the same time? Probably not, only she would know. Would she know this me, this face? Or would I be a stranger to her in this form?

On the first hot day of the spring, she came. I watched her parents' vehicle pull in, watched as she laid her head against the seat. Her mom came and told me her head was hurting, probably from the stress of it all. Nerves--I had a case, too. How do you prepare for what you do not know?

She got out, walked up. Shy, shy, shy....I said, "You're really nervous aren't you?" She walked up to me....did a strange thing. She put her hands around my glasses as if to make them bigger. (Remember the 1990s? Remember the eyeglasses? Mine took up half my face then.) "THERE YOU ARE!!!" And then...

Hugs, tears. I was the only one to "look like" me. I was me! Sure, different glasses, a little silver hair, but ME in face, body, voice. Emotional connection? Immediate.

But still, there were things....3 hours that day, I told her a lot of stories, gave her encouagement (I hope), listened. Such a weird experience, telling her stories about herself! Many things she remembered about "us" though, her childhood. It was encouraging, having these little pieces of her back.

And it continues. She makes progress, daily. We've found ways to communicate, like passing notes in class when we were kids; a short message here and there, sending things by text, through the mail, the occasional phone call. And each time there's a little piece of her...a new joy.

Today's? An inside joke. We all have them, with our nearest and dearest. Something that, even when said out loud in front of others, makes no sense to anyone but yourselves. Amber and I have many, many, many of them...and I've not told her any, hoping she'd remember on her own. Today....she did.

"How you doing doll? I'm stuck at work today, yuck." I told her. Waited for her response, expecting a rundown of what she was doing. Instead.... "Red pop and bananas. That's all I have to say."

A choked little scream. Happy tears. A little jumping up & down. Scared my co-worker to death. But it's a piece of her. It's a tiny, pure joy. It's a gift.