Angilee Wallis

I wanted him home. Since he was still in a coma, there was great concern that this would be too difficult. I was scared but I was also determined; Terry needed to be home during Christmas.

Terry’s feeding tube was removed shortly after Thanksgiving. I had watched the nurses feed him with a syringe and decided I could manage. Staff from the nursing home helped us carry Terry into the car. Family and friends helped us carry him into the house once we got him home.

In the familiar setting of home and surrounded by family and friends, loved ones came by to wish Terry a Merry Christmas. Everyone talked to him as if he were the old Terry.

He was still in a coma, but I believed he had to know the difference between being in the nursing home and being at home. I could not prove it, but I felt it with my whole heart.

From that time on, we started bringing Terry home every other weekend. By the end of the next year, Terry was moved into a nursing home in Mountain View, which is the town where I work. I frequently stopped by to see him after work and we brought him home every weekend.

The months turned into years-five, ten, fifteen-and people saw no improvement. Terry’s young wife had gotten on with her life. His daughter, Amber, only occasionally saw her father as she grew up. A few people questioned the wisdom of bringing him home every weekend, but most of our family and friends supported us. It was a strain, but Jerry and I were united in our unwavering love for Terry.

Like a bud that blooms so slowly that its movement is imperceptible, Jerry and I felt that our son was opening up. It was so gradual, it escaped others. There were little things or a wink. One day, Terry laughed. And once Terry did something, he could continue to do it.