Fewer Words and More Time

I decided to interview Tom while we sat on the balcony enjoying Charleston’s nice fall weather.

The interview reminded me that Tom is still Tom. He is a communicator at heart. Though he speaks only in short phrases or sentences, the words are carefully chosen and he is able to communicate just as powerfully as before his brain injury.

Me: What has been the biggest change since your brain surgery?

Tom: Not counseling with people at work.

Me: (curious, because he was not a counselor) Who did you counsel with at work?

Tom: People like Thomas.

Ahh. Thomas is Tom’s good friend. They talked daily about menial things and meaningful things. Tom’s friendships with his coworkers meant a lot to him. Being a part of a Catholic theology department at Bishop England meant the opportunity to discuss subjects that were interesting to Tom.

Me: Do you miss that?

Tom: Somewhat.

Me: What has been another big change?

Tom: Time. I have time now.

He says it in a way that he seems to appreciate it, but I’m not sure so I dig deeper.

Me: Is it good?

Tom: Yes.

Me: What do you do with this time?

Tom points to his head and says, “Think.”

Me: Do you like time to think?

Tom: Yes.

Do you think that when you are thinking you are communing with God? (I regret asking a leading question. I really want to hear from Tom and his heart. I don’t want to lead him. I want him to speak freely.)

Tom: Yes.

Do you think in words or sensing?

Tom: Both.

Me: When Lisa, the caregiver is here, do you have time to think?

Tom: Yes.

Me: Do you like when Lisa is here?

Tom: I don’t mind it.

Me: What is the overall sense during the day.

Tom: Quiet.

Me: What kind of a quiet?

Tom: Thought-provoking.

Me: Can you tell me any theme or subject of your thoughts?

Tom: Going back to work.

He says this a lot.

Me: Is it disturbing to think of that?

Tom: No.

Me: Do you have hope?

Tom: He nods, yes.

Me: What do you imagine might realistically happen?

Tom: Kids in my class grow closer to God.

Me: How will that happen?

Tom: Listening to me. A lot of them already have the gift, they don’t know it yet.

Me: What gift?

Tom: The gift of drawing others to God.

Tom still sees himself as a teacher. It is something that occupies a lot of his thinking. It doesn’t agitate him. It seems to give him hope. It is a mystery I don’t understand. I find it interesting and perplexing at the same time.

Me: At Thanksgiving, what should I know about making it nice for you?

Tom: You can be quiet. I will be me. I’m okay.

Tom is caring for me by knowing the burden I bear and lifting it off my shoulders.

Me: I’m going to rest a lot today. Tell me it’s okay.

Tom: It’s okay.

He says it in a way that convinces me it is okay.

Such a mystery. Tom is a good teacher. Even now, with fewer words and quieter days, he is teaching me to accept my fatigue, to slow down, to rest without guilt.

I can be quiet, like Tom.

It’s okay.

It’s more than okay.