I was in the in-between. I was there for a few weeks, and I did not like it.

That in-between was the time period between when they told me I needed a brain stent sooner rather than later and the time when I actually received the brain stent. My heart and kidney functions had been compromised from the medicines and brain-saving procedures they performed after my stroke, and that delayed my procedure. I am incredibly thankful for the advanced medical knowledge of all who cared for me. I really am. I am the recipient of way more miraculous healing than I deserve. But that time, that in-between, was very difficult.

I felt like there was a bomb ticking in my head, that I only had a certain amount of time before my aneurysm blew and either killed me or greatly impaired my cognitive abilities, my senses, my memories. (This is not an entirely rational thought process, but I did, after all, have a stroke.) I found myself trying to remember every moment, hold onto every memory, smell more flowers, and make more eye contact. I thought about what would happen if I did not come out of this unscathed. Would my grandson remember me at all? Would my people remember what I was like before this? Would Dale take this opportunity to get rid of the antique sofa I adore but that he does not? (Sofa is still here. Dale is a good man.)

In all actuality, all of us are in-between. We are in-between the beginnings of our lives and the ends. For some, it is all too short. For others, it can be painful. It can be a long time. It can be successful. It can be a struggle. But we are all there. For Spencer, his in-between was 21 years. He crammed a lot of living into those years. So much laughter. So many friends.  So much love. I wonder how his life would have been if he had come home. Wife? Children? Would he have become a pilot? Would he still play the guitar? What would he have done if he had a longer in-between?

The decision to go virtual for this year’s 5K was a difficult decision to make. I desperately want to honor my son in the best way possible. What will happen if this detour allows people to forget him? What will happen to the hundreds of veterans whose lives could change with help from the organizations we support? What about the folks really struggling with their in-between?

Or what if this is a catalyst for providing more help and meeting more needs?

Maybe my in-between surgery time was meant for me to appreciate my life more, clarify my goals, refine my relationships. Maybe I should focus on making my in-between count. Maybe we all should. We certainly missed being together this year, and I do not know what the future holds. No one does. We are all here, in our in-between. Let’s make it count.

To our in-betweens,

Megan Moore Duncan