Two (maybe unsurprising) observations

Two things have struck me in recent days; both related to T's accident but both slightly random:

1. How much variation there is between what I remember and what I don't

This intrigues me. I can vividly remember being on the train (pre-call). I'd been working late and ended up on a stopping service. A woman got on at Wimbledon and sat next to me. She'd been out for a drink; I could smell the alcohol on her. For some reason she annoyed me (or maybe the fact she'd been out enjoying herself while I'd been at work annoyed me.) Then the call came. She supported me off the train when I almost passed out and she got me up the stairs, checking I'd be OK from there. I can remember that so well. I remember too the call I made to Andy asking for a lift to the hospital. And being at the hospital: how I caught my shoe on the door in A&E and scratched the leather; going through to see T for the first time, and spending my last night with him - the smell of his deodrant as I nestled against him on the bed, scrutinising every inch of his body - committing it to memory; the feel of his broken bones beneath me; being encouraged to eat something and only managing some dry crackers. That's all so vivid. Even now. But I can't for the life of me remember other things about that night. I can't really remember some of the people who were there being there, or them leaving again. I can't remember how and when I told people about what had happened. I can't remember coming home - what time it even was - what I did, waking up (how the hell did I wake up to that reality?). That's all gone. The shock I guess, the protection mechanism. But how did my brain filter out what it's going to remember and what it's not? As I said, I find it intriguing.

2) How I feel like a new person

I can't really remember the old me that well. I can't picture what that McRudders was like pre-T's accident; how she thought, what she was like; what motivated and drove her. In my new mind, she was weaker in some respects and more wishy-washy. I dunno. I only know the new me now. I feel older somehow. And much wiser (about the important things in life, or maybe that should be death). I also feel that I've got a colder edge, maybe an aloofness, because I feel I'm alone on many levels (not necessarily physically alone as I'm so well supported by my loving family and friends - more a situational aloneness. It's hard to articulate). I think I'm more particular about my appearance (my sister commented that it's as if I've got a new eye for things - what's that about?) I wonder if one is the more genuine me? Am I still in protective mode and have my guard up? Or have I been changed by what's happened? Or a bit of both? Probably the latter I guess.

Either way, it feels like a brave new world. No better, no worse. Just the world I've found myself in and the only world I know for now. But I think I'm more content in that world than I've been to date. I can accept it and deal with it and enjoy it. It's taken time but I think I'm getting there. Hurrah!