Excuse me, while I grieve

This fall has been hard. It’s just grief. We’re old friends.

I think I’ve come through the other side – at least for this season. An old counselor described grief as a tunnel – it’s dark in there – but it will end. This fall’s grief tunnel was relatively short with brief holes of light – but I’m through, and I’m grateful.

Author and special needs mom, Sandra Peoples, describes three seasons of grief for a special needs parent. The first is immediately after diagnosis; the second is around puberty, and the third is after the child ages out of school – around 22.

Anne is 14 and at the end of puberty. She’s developed into a beautiful young lady, yet she still loves Daniel Tiger’s neighborhood and Candyland. She continues to read at a 1st-grade level, and her walking is increasingly laborious causing her to be confined mostly to her wheelchair. I don’t think you realize you have expectations until you arrive and life is – well – different than you expected.

I thought Anne might be more grown up. walking a bit more – maybe even reading a bit more. I expected her interests to be more age-appropriate. Actually, I don’t know what I expected, but I know those expectations have not been met.

Instead, I have a delightful daughter who loves boundlessly, connects effortlessly, and brings me a tremendous amount of joy. She’s exactly who God willed her to be. As she snuggles in my lap watching another episode of Daniel Tiger, I savor her presence. As my other children grow up and out – Anne will always be close. She’s mine, and I’m grateful :)

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Excuse me, while I grieve

  1. Debbie C. Long says:

    Hi Kathryn,

    Thank you for the beautiful post. I hardly ever see my girls any more so I understand the joy you find in having Annie Bee always there but then the difficulties of that too. I miss her, so tell her hi from Miss Debbie.

    Love to all the family,

    Debbie Long

    Liked by 1 person

  2. S. T. says:

    My son recently had brain surgery for his epilepsy. I found, for me, another stage of grief, as I wrestled with, coming to terms with, my boy who seemed so much the same, yet I know he’s missing most of his left temporal lobe. That’s not normal, and it seemed so strange, and if I’m honest, weird. Eventually, I decided I must be grieving this new normal for my boy which includes living the rest of his life without a whole brain.

    Thank you for your blog!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s