My daughter called me yesterday. She's in her senior year in college and is taking a year off before applying to medical school. We were discussing her personal statement for her medical school application. She thought that her brother's accident and subsequent tbi really affected her life and influenced her decision to apply to medical school, but wasn't sure if she should write about that. She's very passionate about the topic, but as she said to me, "I'm still not sure if I'm glad the doctors saved my brother's life yet." She went on to explain that she thinks the medical profession needs to think about the quality of life of the person they're saving. She said that she thinks there was "no place in society for him," and that lots more work needs to be done after the (amazingly good, in her opinion) acute and post-acute rehabilitation that he received.

I mostly responded with, "Yes, um-hmm" periodically, but at one point I said, "Yes, I used to question whether or not I wished your brother would have been better off if he had died, but I really don't think that way anymore." AND SHE AGREED WITH ME. She says that she thinks that way more and more as well.

This mother's heart swelled with hope after this conversation. This is the first sign that my daughter has given that she is beginning to accept her brother. I am trying not to put too much stock in this conversation, and yet... I am. This one conversation has renewed my hope that one day, my son and his sister will find common ground to reconnect. And while their relationship will be different -- as all of our relationships are with my son -- one day, the relationship will be good and strong and lasting.

Hope: The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

Yes, I am hopeful! Cautiously hopeful, but hopeful nonethless.

Hugs to all,
HayMom