A love note to my dad...and to Kyle.

It was at my sisters dining room table.
I truly don't remember the date or year, but what matters is that my father was at the very cusp of his journey with Alzheimer's disease.
He knew it was coming. He was still in good mind that he saw the signs of what was to come.
He lost his mother to the disease and he knew....he knew Alzheimer's would eventually take his own life.

We had sat down together at the table just the two of us and talked for hours. Sadly I can't remember specifically all we talked about, but I know my heart will never forget a few of those things we did talk of.

For today, for this particular post I wanted to bring up one thing I do remember him saying very vividly.
He said he was sorry.
He apologized for what was about to come for our family, because he knew he had Alzheimer's.
He knew the pain, the emotional toll that would result of him having this disease.

Not only was he sorry for the disease that was consuming him, but he was sorry because he was a father.
He was a father, a husband, a brother, and a friend.
He knew the pain he was going to inflict, without his control and without his intent.


I never until now realized how incredibly painful all of this had to have been on my father.
I only knew how it felt for myself.
I never once thought about how hard it must have been for him to realize all of this, process the possibilities, and accept it without fail.
I was too selfish in my own grief that I never thought about his role as a father to have to say goodbye to his children...his wife...his friends...
This is the pain of life.
This is the raw truth of love.

Now that I am a parent, I understand.
I know how hard it must have been to digest all of this.
To realize you must leave your children...to leave them alone without being able to have a future with them.
To experience life with them.
To be a parent.

He had to leave.
He knew it was inevitable and he apologized.

Had I known the depth of this apology at the time I probably would have never been able to physically stand on my own feet and say goodbye to him.
I would have collapsed from the pain.

This is the love of a father.
Of a parent.

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there that love with no walls.
To those of you who aren't afraid of showing your souls.
To those who allow pain, truth, and love be what matters above all else.


After my father died my life was turned upside down and only a select few truly saw the ugly repercussions of it all.
I was damaged.
I was beyond hurt, I was completely empty and truly worthless.
To admit this is very sad for me, but it is the truth.
It is a truth I accept now, and will never forget as a learning tool for my life to come.

It never fails in life that where there is pain and suffering, there is always light.
There is always something worth living for.

We tend to seek out what is missing in our lives in times of heartache and confusion.
What our souls crave we start looking for.
We seek the balance in life that we are missing...even if we don't know what it is we need.
We as humans still seek.

I was seeking laughter...light...something to help me forget the raw pain of loosing my father the way I did.
I wanted to remember laughter.
I wanted to feel the sheer delight of looking at someone/something with complete trust and to just laugh. To truly feel the innocence of being a child again.
To feel safe in my skin and to have someone to talk to again the way I could with my dad.

Enter Kyle.
The joy to my pain.
The person my soul was seeking to help ease the pain I was feeling.

We had known each other for years. We were always friends. I always loved him as a person.
He was kind, honest, and above all he always made me laugh.
Whenever I was around him I felt light...I felt innocently happy.
I wish for him people could truly understand all he has done for me, and for my kids.
I know my dad was watching over somehow, I know he brought Kyle back in my life for a reason.

People are brought into your life for reasons.
No matter the timing or circumstances they are there for a reason.

On the opposite end of that rainbow people also leave your life.
They leave for reasons we may never understand.

I now know the pain and reality of why my father would never want to leave me.
I never thought of it from his side.
Pain and loss can make a person selfish.
However, if you think about it from the other perspective it brings a new light to things.
It makes you a better, more balanced soul.

My father apologized that day at my sisters for having to leave me.
He knew he would never watch me be a mother.
He would never have the joy of being a grandparent.
He knew he was going to leave me before he wanted to.

I was lucky.
I had a father who I loved more than anything.
A father who was not too proud to show his soul.
One whom loved beyond boundaries and was never afraid to tell me how he felt.
One who loved me enough to tell me he was sorry. To tell me in advance to prepare for the inevitable...
I was lucky.

I am still lucky.
I was given a best friend out of all of this.
I was given the gift of laughter again.
I was shown how to love as a parent, as a person, and as a friend.

Man, woman, child, no matter...
Love is love.
If you love someone tell them.
No matter what the situation or circumstances.
Love will save a soul.
Honesty will save a soul, no matter how humbling.
I promise you that.

Thank you Dad.

Thank you Kyle.

Out of all the pain, the trials, the moments of loss.
I came out a better person because of your love.

Thank you to all you amazing father's, friends, humans out there.
You are truly doing life changing work.

Happy Fathers Day.

peace.

love gets me through. writing gets me through. until then...

When the day comes that I am introduced to Kannon I will be ready.

I will always remember when it hit me that I may never know him.
Never know his dreams, his future, his potential...
It was the day he was diagnosed with Autism.
Realistically I knew he had Autism, but until I paid a professional to evaluate him, test him, and write a 20 page report on him which included his clinical diagnosis I just didn't want to believe it.
It truly is humbling when you see something on paper, in black and white.
It literally brought me to my knees...in my driveway on a beautiful sunny day.

The spirit and love a parent encompasses for their child is nothing short of painful.
A pain so deep, so profound, and so pure that without it one would just feel empty.
It is a beautiful, wonderful pain...but it still hurts.

As a parent to a child with Autism the moment I found out Kannon's future my heart felt an entire new pain that I couldn't understand in the beginning, and am still exploring today.

The best I can make of it is the feeling of not knowing, understanding or controlling anything your heart feels from moment to moment.
You know how you should feel, yet you react an entire different way.
Rationale, reason and logic go out the window...there is no such thing in relation to loving a child with Autism.
One minute I can feel loss, the next hope...Peace, then anger.
Your heart is constantly counter balancing itself, out of surviving the pain you feel deep down.
I had a friend once tell me I was in survival mode. A very obvious outside observation, and one that at times is necessary to get through a day that I can have.
The thing with Autism is that some days you just have to get through it...you have to numb yourself out, because if you really sit in it for too long you will drown. You will get overwhelmed by the emotions, the reality, the rawness of life that is thrown in your face compliments of the disorder.

You have to sit there and watch your child struggle.
You have to observe the behaviors, the physical turmoil, the emotions lurking behind their beautiful faces.
Sometimes you just want to shake them. Shake them until they break out of this body they have no control over.
You just want to meet your child. Know who they really are behind ALL of this. Know why they can't just open their mouth and talk to us. You want to feel connected to this beautiful person you created.
Again, the rationale is one of non existence in the real world...it just doesn't make a dent.

As a continuum, the one emotion I have never felt is completion.
I may never feel this with Kannon.
I may never have the chance to sit down with him and hear him...really hear him.
Hear his fears, his thoughts, his sense of humor...why he does the things he does.
I may never formally be introduced to Kannon.
I may never get to hear his true voice.

That kind of pain is one I cannot wrap my head around or put words to.
It just is. It is my every day.
I suppose the take one day at a time mentality is best for this.

It is part of this beautiful pain I spoke of earlier.
The love, the hope, the peace you want to feel every single day...but sometimes just can't.
Sometimes the counter point to what we want in our lives may never evolve.

In spite of it all, I still hope every day I will be able to one day sit next to Kannon and talk about it all.
To hear his experiences in his own words...and that will be the day I stop writing.
I write to hear his voice in my heart.
It is my way of balancing out the pain...

I write to hear his voice in my heart.

hope.ful.

peace.

the car ride

As parents we all try to protect our children from pain.
We know pain as adults, and we know just how hard it can be at times to overcome pain.
Some never recover from painful moments in life, and I think this is what scares me as a parent...I never want my children to harbor pain and carry it with them forever.

This morning we were driving to school as we always do, pull up to the curb and park, then we sit in the car for a few minutes and talk about what a great day they will have at school learning and playing.
I think it's important to set the mood for the day even if we are all exhausted, grumpy or have a case of the Mondays...
As we sat in the car one of Kalena's classmates walked by and this is when Kalena put her head down and got really quiet.
I kept talking to Kannon knowing that she would either let whatever it was pass or she would say what it was that was on her mind.
She looked up a few minutes later with tears in her eyes and said "Mommy, (I will call this friend of Kalenas "Suzy") Suzy said the other day that Kannon was really weird"...
"She said that I have a weird brother and she didn't want to play with me"

Oh crap.
O.k. obviously this is not a surprise, I knew this would come up now that they go to the same school and have the same recess time.
Her friends would see Kannon and point out their juvenile observations that all kids do.

As we sat in silence for a moment Kannon got very quiet and started looking out the window.
Kalena was wiping away her tears and Kannon looked over at her reached out and grabbed her hand...
"It's o.k Kalena...I'm not weird." "Don't be sad".

We talked more about it until she came to her own conclusion that this was going to happen sometimes, and that all she can do is "stick up for Kannon", and not get her feelings hurt because other people "don't know him like I do".

Exactly.
No one ever really knows what goes on behind the scenes.
No one knows the battles people fight in silence.
No one can ever tell you what is truth, or make you feel bad for things they just don't understand.

Kalena will continue to forgive people in her life for their misunderstandings about her brother.
She will have to grow a thicker skin and lighter conscious.
I think Kannon is pretty lucky to have her as his best friend in this life...the fact that at her age she can cry for someone else is an amazing act of love.

Kannon was very quiet after grabbing Kalenas hand.
He was silent all the way down the hill that we walk every day to his class.
We said goodbye to Kalena as she walked off to her class, then we walked towards the bench to wait for his teacher.
He sat down, still quiet...I just sat next to him and waited.
He had pulled his hood over his head in the car so I couldn't see his face while we walked.
As his teacher came up and his other classmates I leaned in to say goodbye to him.
I pulled his hood down over his head and saw a red, teary eyed boy.
"Oh buddy, what's the matter"
"I'm not weird mamma...I'm a good boy...Kalenas sad because I'm weird."

We walked over to the side and talked for a few minutes until the tears stopped...until he got back on his feet again and was ready to move forward with his day.

Some people have to experience hurdles in life earlier than others, and some fall down more then others.
As a parent it can be very tough to watch and experience...
But what we have to remember is that it's their journey, not ours.
These are their lessons to learn.
Even if we can't use words to talk about feelings, your action of just listening and looking at them while they "talk" to you in their own way is still love.
Watching your child fall down either metaphorically or physically is hard. Sometimes though it can be good to allow them to get up on their own...we can be right next to them without interfering.
All we can do is love them every day with arms and ears wide open just in case they need somewhere to fall.


peace.