As I was getting ready to go to an all day meeting, I’m in my office and I quickly check Facebook. I get a notification that I have memories. And in there is a video, where my monkey was less than a year old, and my husband is asking him to count. I’m recording, my husband goes, “Ready? One, two, three!” And then the monkey tries to repeat it. He says, “One, two three!” It sounds so sweet. He’s unable to pronounce the words quite well but he’s trying. And you can hear us as we cheer him on.
That was six years ago. Before he got sick. Before he was hospitalized. Before we lost him and the doctor brought him back to us. And then it happened again. Before all the meds. Before I asked the doctor if there would be any side effects of all the meds my son was taking as they desperately tried to revive him, and the doctor looked at me, straight in the eyes, and said “Mom, my priority is to make sure he lives.”
Before all the hospital stays, ICU rooms. Before it all.
He used to count to three.
And every year, when I see this video, of a different boy whom I don’t recognize, I have my inner battles. I don’t know who is that boy. And that’s so tough to bear.
The what ifs cant stop popping in my head. What if he hadn’t gotten sick? What if he was able to talk to us? Would he be at therapy right now? Or at little league? Would we be talking to his speech therapist about the new board she wants us to try at home to see if he is able to point at it or would we be doing homework? Learning math? Spelling? Like the other six year olds.
I talk about this hole that grows and is difficult for me to not fall into.
But I’m at work, and need to face a day full of meetings. So I have to learn to tuck it away, and shelve it for later.
And then I recall yesterday. We were eating dinner, talking about how our day went. My husband tells my daughter, ‘Your mom and I are thinking of retiring in Mexico. You will have to visit us and your brother in Mexico.”
She stops eating, looks at us, and asks “What? What are you taking about? My brother is going to live with me and my family”.
“Your spouse will need to be okay with this.” My husband tells her.
And she says, “We are a team, my brother and I. We come together. My future husband will need to respect that.”
And I have to hold all of those emotions in and not bawl in front of her. Because although we are planning for his future and hoping that he will be okay financially so that she doesn’t have to have that burden, he most likely will need assistance for his every day needs. And how does one ask this of their other children?
But I didn’t have to ask. ❤️💙
A friend of mine told me that she has decided to stop focusing on closed doors. She will focus on the open doors and windows, because that’s where hope is.
Seeing the video felt like my heart broke into pieces. Doors closing. And then I remember our conversation with my daughter. And how my other door is wide opened. ❤️