The doctors later explained that a head injury had taken his memory and his sense of direction, leaving him unable to find his way back to his life. Recovery was slow and uneven, filled with patience and small steps forward. Our children met their father again gradually, through stories and moments rather than expectations. He doesn’t remember our past the way I do, but he shows up for our present with smiles, effort, and presence. Hope didn’t return to us all at once. It arrived quietly, carried by a loyal dog who never stopped believing. What we rebuilt wasn’t the same life we lost, but it was real and it was enough.
