A very dear friend of my family passed away today.

I guess I am still in shock, or a little numb, because it doesn't really seem real.

Tragedy rarely announces itself before it walks in the door.

I was named after this dear lady. She was a one of a kind, inspiring, funny, generous, loving, super-intelligent and good to the bone person.  I can't believe she's gone.

I have a different view of death than some people...I really do think it's like turning a page, or opening a door to something else, or moving on the next thing. To me it's a continuation.

But damn, it's hard when it's someone you've known for this long and love.

My thoughts and prayers go out to her family, her friends, and her colleagues.  There's an empty space, and her shoes can't be filled.

yeah, right!

Sometimes, you have to take all the pain you're feeling and create something new.

What I Didn't Expect

I have a huge imagination.  I love writing short stories and poems and once, a novel, which still needs a good going-over. So usually, in any given situation, my mind will run off on tangents while I think up several different scenarios that could possibly apply to the reality that I'm experiencing.  Example:  Husband is late coming home from work.  The most likely explanation (Ockham's razor applies here, always) is usually the accurate one.  But what my brain does is this:  He got mugged by a group of masked men in a van.  Or, he got in an accident, and he's struggling to text "I love you" one final time.  Or, he decided to go to a movie, on a whim.  All of this is silly, and none of it ever applies.  So I've learned to tell myself that since I'm the one imagining all of this garbage, none of it is probably true.

While all of this stuff was going on with Logan, I imagined all kinds of things.  I didn't have any experience with group homes.  What I didn't expect was going to the group home today and finding this calm, smiling young man who I call "son" greeting me at the door, playing with his older sister for an hour, and then telling me that yes, he likes it there and wants to stay, and that yes, he likes his teacher at school, and that now it was time for mommy to go home until next time.

I'm thankful and flabbergasted because beyond my wildest dreams, this turned out better than I could have ever hoped for.

The other thing I didn't expect was that what a hard time I would have adjusting to this.

Now, before I hear a collective "duh" from everyone...you have to understand.  Our lives have been seriously limited, as a family, in what we could and could not do for a long time. We're talking years.  Brian made an excellent point.  It wasn't that one of us couldn't go out and do something, it was knowing that we were doing it at the expense of someone else that made it so stressful.  If I decided to leave for an hour or two, things at home might go well, or they might go horribly wrong.  There was never any way to tell.  If Brian decided to work late, he did that knowing that I had to hold down the fort that evening and hope that no meltdowns occurred.  Doing other things, like going to the movies or shopping or things like that, were completely out of the question.  It got harder as the years went on.  This is not an uncommon occurrence for parents who have children with autism.  Couples often experience a splitting apart, emotionally, as they each build separate lives but meet in the middle to put out the fires.  It's draining, emotionally.  You simply can't go a lot of places that neurotypical people go because the world is not made to be kind to or accommodate children with autism.

Now that I have clarified that, this is what was unexpected:  Over the weekend, my husband and I went out to eat.  We left the baby with her older brother and sister and we ate whatever we wanted and did not rush and then we went shopping and came home.  It was fun and we felt a little giddy afterward.  The next day, we piled the kids in the car and we took them to the mall and we got something to eat and we visited some other stores and didn't get home until after dark.

But as the evening wore on, while we were walking and looking at things and having a great time, I started feeling anxious.  I mean, I could feel it growing in me and knew it was anxiety, but I felt confused because nothing bad was happening. I kept thinking, we shouldn't be here, I really have to get home, but there was actually no reason not to be doing what we were doing and no one was home except our dogs. So I ignored it.  But it was still there.

By the time we got home I felt completely overwhelmed.  That may sound strange to some people, but the entire weekend...shopping, and eating out, and going on an actual, un-rushed, un-stressed date with my husband...was so abnormal to me.  I felt happy.  No one got upset because I went somewhere.  No one yelled at me when I got home. Saturday morning I slept in and no one cared.  It was strange.  And so Saturday night, by the time we got home, I went in my room and called my mother and asked if I was supposed to feel happy.  I know, that sounds incredibly stupid.  But I felt so confused.  I felt guilty for having a good time!  and said, Logan can't be here.  And my mother summed it up perfectly.  She said, I think you feel sad because Logan is not the type of person who would enjoy those things, and you wish it was different.

And yes, I do wish it was different.  With all my heart, I wish that this wasn't an issue, that things did not have to be this way, but I'm also grateful that because they are this way, Heavenly Father made a way for all of us to get what we needed and be in the best situations possible.  The fact of the matter is, he is happy.  He is more calm and stress-free than I have seen him, ever.  My daughter said, on our way home, He isn't angry anymore.  And that was a huge part of it.  He is in a situation now that caters to what he needs and he can build a life the way that he wants without watching people come and go around him, doing things that he will never be able to do.  He can finally breathe.  And one day soon, maybe I'll remember how to do that, too.

Looking Forward

Just because Logan is secure and is building his own future doesn't mean I'm going to stop advocating for him, or individuals like him.  I sat down today with my second-in-command for All Together, and we planned out the next four-five months for our support group.  Needless to say, I'm more excited than I've ever been about what we've got in store.

To learn more, go to this link!

http://www.alltogethercleburne.org/2016/09/bright-future-ahead.html

What Love Is

 

What is love?

Is it just a chemical reaction that fades over time?  A lot of scientists probably think so.  Is it butterflies?  Tingles?  A sparkle in your eye?

Does it mean never having to say you're sorry?

Does it mean you can do whatever the hell you want to someone, knowing that they will forgive you every time, so it's okay? (Some people think so.)

But I don't think it's any of these things.

I've learned so much throughout this entire ordeal with my son.  So many things, about God and faith and how things really work between here and the veil.

But probably, the most simple, beautiful lesson I've learned, is what love is.  What it really is.

Love is letting go.  It's understanding that someone dear to you might need something more than you can give them, so you let them go to that place, or be in that place, with the people who can take care of them.

Love is a friend who calls you every day, or shoots you a text, or sends you an email, and asks you how you are first, even though you know that they have their own struggles.

Love is a friend who shows up at the door with dinner on your hardest days.

Love is someone who is planning a wedding and running a dance academy, who still looks you straight in the eye and says, How are you? And gives you a hug, even though they have a million things to do.

Love is forgiving yourself for your own perceived shortcomings, and allowing someone else to love you in spite of them.

Love is a Facebook message.

Love is a man pausing in his backyard shed to say a prayer.

Love is two people who sacrificed every Sunday so that they could teach my son and called it a privilege.

Love is two other people who modified cub scout meetings so that my son could be engaged.

Love is an autism specialist.

Love is elementary school teachers, paraprofessionals, speech therapists, and high school teachers.

Love is a support group.

Love is the friend that calls me up and asks me about my son before they talk about anything else.

Love is a ward fast.

Love is all the people who have consistently been in my life over the last few months, who have lifted their voices in prayer, put their arms around me and my family, called me, texted me, wrote messages, and offered support in ways too numerous to count.  

Love is a Bishop, his counselors, and their wives.

Love is a mom,  watching her daughter go through the most challenging time of her life, offering the best kind of support and help available.

Love is the friend who called me, in spite of her own challenges with her own special needs children.

Love is a distant cousin who messages me on Facebook and asks me to have lunch with her.

Love is a little brother who sends me silly text messages and cheers me up. 

Love is all my other children, who hug me every day, make me laugh, and bring me so much joy.

Love is not making excuses.

Love is all the people who pointed me in the direction of the services Logan needed.  Sometimes it was just a casual comment, sometimes, it was an email or a conversation, but little by little, he got to where he needed to be at this time.

All of this, this is what love is.  It's so beautiful, and so simple, and the one thing all of this has in common is this:  All of these great, wonderful people, put someone else ahead of themselves.  They didn't judge.  If they did, they kept it to themselves. They didn't complain. They didn't ask, Why should I do this?  They just did what needed to be done.  And I will never, ever forget, and I will never stop being grateful.

Moving Day

Today is Logan's moving day.

We have mixed emotions about it.  Last night I tucked him in for what I knew would be the last time for a long, long time.  I reassured him that yes, tomorrow he was going to be moving into a group home.  This morning, he crawled into bed with me and snuggled up to me like he used to do when he was smaller.  I think he was trying to reassure me.

The thing is, he wants to go there.  That's what I haven't told a lot of people.  He wants something different, and he knows that he needs it.  He has told me repeatedly that he is not going to live with me anymore.  This morning he made it very clear that he wants us to visit him.  This is not a case of us throwing an innocent, child-like person into the middle of a chaotic situation.  Logan has been as much a part of this decision as the rest of us.

Throughout this entire situation, the constant has been Heavenly Father.  His hand is in my son's life; I have seen it repeatedly.  At this stage, hours before we are set to pack up the car and drive to Fort Worth with him and all his belongings, I feel peace.  I know that this is part of the plan for Logan's life, and I know that Heavenly Father still has much in store for him and for us.