Fifteen years ago, as Saturday night rolled into Sunday morning of Memorial Day Weekend, I drove drunk on I-95 and fell asleep behind the wheel. My car slammed into the lefthand guardrail and was totaled, though I was not seriously injured. As I inspected my damaged Honda, another vehicle drove directly towards me. To avoid the oncoming car, I leaped the guardrail. Unfortunately, I was standing atop an overpass and fell thirty feet onto the street below.

I sustained a plethora of trauma, the most serious of which was a brain injury. I resided in hospitals for approximately three months after the fall. In the months and years during the long road of recovery, there were many setbacks and disappointments. On more than one occasion, I considered suicide.

Nonetheless, I am the luckiest dude I know because the love I felt from family and friends resonates fifteen years later. Your positive impact on my life is indescribable.

You were there when I woke up after my two-week coma, errrrrrrrrrr, “sleep.” You consistently visited me when I could not talk or walk. Those visits must have been tons of fun for you. Then, when I was released from the hospital, you hung out in my parents’ basement, watched sports, and chatted me up. I never once felt that life was passing me by as I focused almost exclusively on rehabilitation.

You organized a benefit for me where (unbelievably) people donated tens of thousands of dollars to help pay the hospital and other bills. Though I slowly hobbled around with a cane, you took me to bars, bought drinks for me, and scored seats from other patrons for your “handicapped friend.” I could write for hours and list examples of your awesome deeds but, instead, will conclude.

To my parents, sister, relatives, friends I grew up with, buds from Penn State or Sea Isle, sister’s friends as well as parents’ friends, and anyone else I may have forgotten (Cut me some slack, I have a brain injury), THANK YOU. You saved my life and helped me to become a better man. I love you.