We knew each other before Aug. 16, 2011, when my perfectly healthy 2-year-old son was overcome by an autoimmune encephalitis. “Was that you the other night?” I asked as he, his wife and their oldest daughter now got out of their double-parked van into the sticky summer air. “Yes,” he replied, “I hadn’t seen you in so long I didn’t recognize you.” Without effort or emotion, I shared the story of our 15-month hospitalization and efforts at navigating our new lives.
The above is an excerpt of a personal essay written by a friend of mine who I met through blogging. It's the second year anniversary of her son's diagnosis, and I can't imagine a more articulate and moving way to honor him.
Read the whole essay here on Motherlode at The New York Times.
It is a beautiful honor. It is powerful and stopped me in my tracks.
ReplyDeleteI liked "We connect more authentically with a wider range of well-worn people. I tell my son often, 'We are the audience, not the oddity.'” Not that it always works that way by any means, but I'm reminded of a somewhat forlorn Thanksgiving when the family member for whom I had prepared an elaborate feast with us (yes, member singular, not plural----large gatherings are such sensory hell for my daughter, I don't give them)failed to show, so we went out and drove around with a stack of foil-wrapped plates of beautiful food, looking for some street people to give them to. Of course, that's one day when everyone has eaten. A dirt-encrusted homeless man wrapped in a blanket shook his head, refusing my offering, but then looked intently at Amelia with glittering eyes for a moment through the open window and said with a truly beatific smile, God bless you. It felt like such a Kindness!
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