Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all
And sweetest is the gale is heard; and sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm...
~Emily Dickinson

Monday, February 27, 2012

Beautiful memory

I vividly remember the first time Kannon experienced the ocean.

I remember my feet touching the sand as he stared down at the sand squishing up between his toes.
He squealed in delight...his hands waving and the biggest smile upon his face that never left the whole time we were there.

I remember walking up to the ocean with him, his tiny hand in mine.
I remember knowing this is my true home.
Growing up in Hawaii the ocean was always our playground.
I learned to swim in the ocean, I have so many pictures of my family playing there.

The smell of the ocean is undeniable.
It is something that is nostalgically implanted upon my senses that I know it will always mean everything to me.
It is where my heart is happiest...where I instinctively know I belong.

It was almost as if Kannon could read all these emotions running through my head and my heart.
As he literally ran in to the waves like they were reaching out to him to embrace him...he felt perfectly safe in their arms.

There is something magical about the ocean for Kannon.
It is a place he could spend all day if I let him.
He truly is at peace there and with it.

As I write this I can't help but flashback as well to September 2007.
We went to Hawaii to spread my dad's ashes in the ocean...to put him where he wanted to be in the end.
He made it clear when he was alive that he wanted no headstone, no cemetery to rest in eternity.
He wanted to be in the ocean, forever at peace with himself.

I remember the boat ride out to the middle of the huge ocean.
The peaceful sound of the waves crashing up against the boat, the birds flying all around us.
When we finally stopped the boat I walked over to my mom who then handed me my father's ashes.

I knelt down, said a prayer and let them go...for the first, or maybe it was the last time, I let him go.
I watched as they so beautifully floated out and down into the blue abyss of water.
He was finally home.

I can't help but believe every time I am at the ocean my dad is right there with me.
That the waves washing ashore kissing my feet are him...that the peace I feel while in it's presence is my father's way of comforting my soul as he did while he was physically here.
It is my place to go that I can talk to him and feel like he is really listening.

So that first day I took Kannon there, I know he was there.
I know he knew this was his grandson there...
The way the waves so gently rolled over to Kannon as he first greeted them had to be his arms reaching out to Kannon.
I watched him play for hours with the ocean as if it were his best friend...laughing, running, splashing...it was beautiful.
It was my way of sharing Kannon with my dad...of showing him how amazing he is.
I know he was there with us...I could feel it.

There are times Kannon will just sit at the shoreline and just stare out at the ocean.
He will watch the water brush up against his legs and just smile.
He will play with the gentle waves as they come to greet him, and honestly I never see him as peaceful, happy, and fulfilled as he is when he is there.

One afternoon while I sat and watched Kannon sitting on the shore I saw him lay down on the wet sand as the waves would just ever so perfectly come up right to his nose and go back...
He laid there for about 10 minutes letting the waves roll up to him and back while he just lay there.
I smirked thinking to myself about the amount of sand he probably had building up in his shorts at this point, when he slowly sat up waved a slow long wave to the last wave, stood up and came over to me.

"Momma I got kisses and I hear hugs...I said bye to them"

I still tear up when I relive that moment...

He is home.
It is magical.

Just wanted to share a beautiful memory :)


Friday, February 17, 2012

Restricting my inner dialogue. Putting my pride aside...

Plain and simple.
I do it every day being Kannon's mother.
Honestly, I am fine with it...I have become accustomed to the feeling of "sucking it up" for the greater good...for the benefit of Kannon.

It does get tiring though, and man does it sting sometimes.
It stings when you are sitting in a meeting on your sons behalf with a group of "professionals" and you get a mouthful of rude talk because they are automatically defensive with any parent.
I have found that a lot of those who deal with parents with special needs children come in with their best defense up only because some parents really can be harsh, rude, and snippy while fighting for our kids.
And vice versa...I get both sides.

What I do not get is how the bigger picture of trying to collaborate towards a positive outcome for everyone would not take precedence over any emotion or action.
Why instead one would chose to be rude, offensive, and very unprofessional.

And in the end I am left with the sting of these words all because I want the best for my child.
I suck it up so that there will be no repercussions on Kannons behalf.
Unfortunately from experience I have seen it before, hence why I rarely express my inner most dialogue even if it requires the most ninja like self control tactics.

Maybe this makes me appear to be a push over, or someone who seems to lack the ability to defend myself...
Kind of like the appearance of one who has Autism.
But we know better don't we.

I just have to be better than them.
I have to put aside what runs through my head and heart because of people who truly misunderstand my entire situation and intent.
It truly is a glimpse into Kannon's everyday life.
He does this all the time...and to imagine how much pain he has had to internalize and sort through at such a young age is just beyond my grasp.

It is a collaborative love.
A collaborative relationship that will carry us through the hardest of times...
It is the reality of the fight we go through for what is rightfully ours.

And thank god for good friends...for other mothers who have had to sit exactly where I did and deal with the political nonsense that we have to for the benefit of our children...
For without being able to vent to them afterwards I would have already lost my mind.

Here's to the daily fights we endure on behalf of our children because we have to...because our child can't speak for themselves...because we can only hope we are doing the right thing.