Finding Home

As I was doing laundry this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of Garret swinging on the hammock while listening to his music on his portable Bluetooth speaker pressed and Morgan playing happily with his water hose. They're teenagers who have autism. Unlike other neurotypical teenagers who probably are with their friends on a weekend doing whatever it is that teenagers do nowadays, this is what they do. A friend told me recently how somehow them having autism was like never having to lose our babies. As they will always be in a way child-like forever. In a way this is a blessing. In another, it is a kind of grieving, one that churns my insides every now and then as thoughts of what might have been invade my day. I grieve that they could never have a life of their own, meet the love of their life, start a family, make memories and so forth. I grieve that I will never have grandchildren. A few years ago, I wrote about this briefly and said that I don't know what it means. Now, I have ...

Dear Garret,  On Mother's Day 2007, you were still 2 years old then. It was a quiet day. A lonely one too if I recall correctly. I remember thinking that as a Mother's day gift to myself, I would buy you a set of bible stories. So I would have a chance to teach you some beautiful lessons. Of course at that time, there was already a nagging of sorts in my heart as to why you weren't responding like I expected you to or were supposed to. Your eye contact was fleeting and you didn't like to be touched, just to name a few. But I still continued to read you stories hoping that by simply forign on I can break through your walls.  Now the rest of this story is history. The years have come and gone. Doctors, teachers and therapists have blessed our life. Now some days you say to me, "Sto-wee." In the early hours of the morning or as we retire to bed at night, you hold my face and look at me with a gaze no longer fleeting but with a sustained look I can ...

Morgan Round cheeks Small eyes that grow large once in a while Hands gentle hold mine Garret Face angled to the sun, moon and stars singing Fingers long flick, touch my face softly like wind Morgan wordless yet intent spills this morning, he sits beside me says, "Mmm- mah," and then none Small eyes grow large Hands gentle touch my arm hold my Heart Garret in the dark head rests in the crook of my arm scant words says, "Aaa-peee," I bring him close my Heart sings.

I gave a team building workshop a couple of years ago and in  one of the activities I asked the participants to take out the contents of their wallet, spread it all out on the table and choose three items they consider most important and cite reason/s why.  Out came the male participant's two-fold wallets and the women's three-fold ones. Debit or credit cards were usually the first choice. Cash, another obvious choice. Some chose identification cards. And the common third choice was a photo of a loved one.  For apparent reasons one needed cash or access to cash wherever one is. Identification cards, so that in case of emergencies, people will know who you are and know who to contact. Photographs of loved ones, well, there's no need for explanation for this, really.  Or do we?  I wonder how many of us in this day and age still carry actual photographs in our wallets or purses. How many of us still go to a photo developing center and have actual ph...

I used to have a personal spot where I write and read my favorite books over and over again. I would pile them on the table and admire their mere presence. Then Typhoon Haiyan came and drenched them and everything else to the core. So I had to throw them all away.  It would be accurate to say that my heart broke when I did what I had to do because it meant I was forced to cut off something that has been a precious part of who I was at the time. Yes, it was just material. Am I being shallow? Maybe. Am I being human? Absolutely. We all have things that are meaningful to us because in one way or another, they symbolize our identity. For some jewelry represents a luxury earned for many years of hard work. For others an array of clothes, shoes and bags represents a wholeness of what wasn't in one's past. And for the enlightened few, they've reached a point where they see all material things as mere mediums or vehicles, if you will, to take them to places of pur...