Every day on the drive home from school, I ask Stalen all about his day. What did you learn today? Did you make any friends? Was it a good day? Did anything funny happen today? and I make comments like I hope you were kind today Stally. I hope that you listened to your teacher. I’m going to give you 100 kisses when we get home. He always giggles at the 100 kisses part because he knows it’s true. As soon as we get home, he crawls up on my lap and hugs me tight and I shower him with kisses, fast and furious like a never ending monsoon.
One of the first things I do after that is look at his communication book to read the notes about how his day was. But, it’s still not the same as Stalen sharing it with me. I yearn to connect with him over his experience with the world outside our home.
Stalen can’t tell me about his day. He can’t answer any of my questions….YET. I know he will one day whether verbally or with his AAC. I can’t help but imagine his colourful and purposefully humorous answers dripping with personality. Until then, I will ask the questions every single day, I will still pause with anticipation and see if he answers. I will still be excited as if he answered and as if he told me so many interesting and fun things about his day.
I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt my heart or that it isn’t easy. I can’t say that I don’t hope or wish every single day for a word, a squeal, a sigh or anything in response.
This is a journey of varying degrees of extreme hard and joy, often disguised but always felt with the most lingering effects.
I am so thankful for the light that breaks through the hard. It comes in the form of notes like he was happiest today when dancing, or notifications that his teacher has sent me a new picture, and I open it to find my sunshine boy enjoying the swing at school.
Keep searching for that light. Always.
Stalen's Way 