Every once in a while I wonder –
what will her life be like?
who will she call friends?
how many of them actually will be?
will she be able to live independently?
who will watch after her?
will her older sister feel burdened?
will she be…happy?
Autism Awareness Month is a double-edged sword.
I am thankful that so many out there, including many of you, are so supportive and even pro-active. I’ve witnessed the beginnings of a DOAM-Tree; I’ve seen light bulbs go off in peoples heads and on on their porches; I’ve read the President proclaim the official national observance of Autism Awareness Day.
But I’ve also had the harsh reminder that my daughter has autism – more severe than some, not nearly as severe as others; I am constantly reminded that her life will not follow the path of her friends, her cousins or her sister; I’ve watched as she struggles to initiate social interaction and keep up with those that are moving too fast to slow down, even at her own birthday party; I’ve watched as the events of a day simply prove too much, leading to an evening of uncontrollable crying; I’ve impotently stood by, knowing there is nothing I can do other than to just be there with her.
And that is when the cracks come.
I do a pretty good job of holding it together most of the time. My wife is the cryer – she likes to say she and her side of the family have leaky eyes. It’s not a negative or positive thing – it is just who they are. In part because of that though, I have built a wall to keep my tears on the inside. It would do our family no good if we both ended up in puddles of tears. I will and do cry, sob, thrash, scream, lash, break down – but it is always inward, never, if rarely on the outside.
Running has helped with that. Much of the raw emotional energy that comes from the pain of watching my child struggle has been channeled into 4AM runs – I try my best not to run angry, but sometimes I have no choice.
But you can’t run away from pain. You can’t run away from hurt. I can’t run away from autism. I won’t run away from my Brooke.
And so the cracks come, and the eyes begin to leak.
As quickly as they come though, a finger is put in the dam and the leak is stopped…for now.
what will her life be like?
who will she call friends?
how many of them actually will be?
will she be able to live independently?
who will watch after her?
will her older sister feel burdened?
will she be…happy?
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