Today marks 7 months since the accident. Most days it still seems surreal that my life drastically changed in a matter of seconds. I never imagined something so devastating happening to my family and me. It seemed like horrifying experiences could only happen to other people, but then it happened to me, and it finally clicked that anything really is possible, whether it be good or bad. I definitely suffered from an error in thinking that I am invincible. And although I never imagined something so dreadful actually happening, I frequently conceptualized what my life would be like if one of my parents had died; it was the only fear of mine that gave me nightmares.

As most of us learn by a certain point in life, our expectations are rarely very realistic. The way I imagined feeling if I lost one of my parents never even came close to the searing pain that burns inside my bones when I think too deeply about who I have lost. How could I imagine the agonizing pain I would feel upon losing one of them, when the pain is truly inconceivable? I do not believe it is possible to ever fully get over devastating loss, but the pain does soften with time.

Mindfulness helps me stay in the present, and not get lost in my thoughts of the future. One of the toughest parts about losing my dad and cousin is that I had all of these dreams that included them. The reality is that when I envision my wedding or having kids, my dad and Jenna are not included. I cannot call them with exciting news of the progress I have made in my healing, or share the fact I finally graduated college, or that I have found solace in writing this blog. I will never do something as simple as eating my dad's amazing pancakes, or something so great as traveling to India with Jenna. The amount of "could have's" is infinite, and if I choose to focus my energy on those unrealistic dreams, I am not living my current life. Of course, my mind occasionally explores what my life would be like if the accident had not happened, but choosing to live in those daydreams will do nothing but bring me pain.

At 7 months, I am working to embrace my heartache when it comes, and truly feel what exists inside of me. Instead of bracing myself against the wave of life, I am diving into each moment and going deep within my moments of hurt, along with my times of joy. All I can do is live minute to minute, transforming myself to match the present circumstance, promising to be a better version of myself than I was the day before. My biggest fear, aside from losing a few other people in my life, came true. I lost a sense of home, safety, joy, and comfort when they died. But I did not lose a feeling of love. If anything, I better understand the depth of my love, and I am finding the strength to not only survive, but to live a richer life than before.

To end, I'd like to share one of my favorite quotes by Anne Frank:

"At such moments I don't think about all the misery, but about the beauty that still remains. This is where Mother and I differ greatly. Her advice in the face of melancholy is: 'Think about all the suffering in the world and be thankful you're not part of it.' My advice is: 'Go outside, to the country, enjoy the sun and all nature has to offer. Go outside and try to recapture the happiness within yourself; think of all the beauty in yourself and in everything around you and be happy.'