I cannot die.
What will happen to my monkey when I die? If my husband is still around, my monkey will be okay.
But he will not be complete. He looks for me when he is scared, he looks for me when he is sad, he looks for me for no reason, other than just to be with me.
He loves to be hugged. He loves to stare at my eyes. He loves to be smothered in kisses. He asks for all of this. He needs all of this.
When he is overstimulated, he needs patience, he needs understanding. He needs someone to listen. He needs me.
When he is mad, when he has not gotten his way, he needs me to calm him down.
I’m not saying my husband or my daughter can’t help him.
I’m saying he needs me. And I need him.
I fight his school when he needs me. I acknowledge his teachers/therapists when he needs them. I make sure our relationships are strong so that they can be patient with my son. I work so hard to let his principal, his teachers, his aides, and his bus driver, everyone that is in his life, to know that I am here. I entrust my little monkey to them. I need them to know that one of my two most treasured gifts on this earth is being placed in their trust. I need them to know that I will be watching. That I am the hawk that they need to worry about in case something happens. That I will protect him and fight for him with every breath I have. But I am also the mom that will appreciate everything they do, because they chose this line of work. And if they love my son, then they have passed my test.
I need my monkey. After a long day at work, or after my surgery, I need his love, his hugs, and his kisses. I need his smile and his laugh. I long for it.
I need him. We need each other.
But also I know when my son is thirsty, or tired, or wants a snack. I just know.
I know when he is coming down with a cold, or he needs deep pressure. I just know.
I know when he is over stimulated, or needs a break. He is non-verbal, but I know.
I am that mom.
I am that mom that is on top of everything he does, everything he needs. And everyone that he is entrusted to. I know them all.
How will he survive when I’m not here? Who will make sure he is okay? Who will make sure he is protected? Safe?
Who will fight the insurance companies and the medical billers from each of his therapies?
Who will know he needs a shower to feel refreshed? Who will know he needs more water because he is still thirsty? Who will love him and be patient with him and care for him like I do?
He needs me to protect him. He needs me to love him. He needs me to be there for him. He needs me.
I need to live, longer than I can imagine. Longer than it is possible.
I cannot die.