Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Sorrow: Raising A Son With Special Needs

That sorrow that comes from seeing what your Special Needs son's peers are accomplishing is a doozy. Those typical and expected milestones. There you are at the playground, the grocery store, driving through the neighborhood, and out of the blue, it sucker punches you right in your tummy. Maybe it hurts more because you are innocent and not prepared, you left your armor off.

And I thought I was over all that comparing, that dreadful loss that comes to haunt you right in your face, time and time again. The pain that is your child with a disability. That shines a headlamp right in the face of all that he is not and can never be. Hasn't Willie aged out of this phenomena yet: after all he is 22 years old!  I can recount so many times, when I saw his peers master cursive, win an award, go to prom, and other such typical milestones. I can remember how it felt to know Willie would never get these experiences. A guttural loss. A sorrow unspoken. That self-deprecation because shouldn't you just be happy with how well he was doing? Stop complaining and accept and celebrate his strengths. And by golly, I thought I was done with this.



Yet there I was, browsing through Facebook, and that old friend sorrow found me.  Took my breath away.  Made me feel as guilty as ever.  For I love my friend and her lovely daughter, Carly, Willie's first best friend. I am proud of Carly for thriving at 4 years of college. I am impressed with her for she is about to graduate with a BA from a small liberal arts college. She has a bright future with countless opportunities open to her.  I am just plain happy for Carly. Except it hurts. For this was supposed to be Willie too. This is the year he too was to graduate from college. Land a job. Start his adult life. Except he got Bacterial Meningitis and it wiped out the part of his brain that could ever go to college. And I live with that knowledge every day and mostly I am fine. For Willie is an adult now. He lives and thrives in a community of his own.  He has other milestones he reaches.

So why do I feel so sad? Go away old friend sorrow. Leave me alone and let me be.


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