12/24/2021
Why I Grieve My Special Needs Child at Christmas
I’m embarrassed to admit that, you know.
I am.
I love my special person in a way that I never knew possible, but still, I grieve.
Have you ever loved someone that you didn’t know?
I have.
He’s beautiful, wonderful, and amazing.
He’s all those things and I work tirelessly to see that the world sees him as I do.
Perfectly perfect in the very way he has been created, a circle in a world of squares.
The trouble is, sometimes I forget.
Though I long for acceptance, I struggle to accept.
Though I long for inclusion, I struggle to include.
Though I long for the flinging of expectations, I struggle to relinquish.
Never more than at Christmas.
Perhaps it’s the traditions that highlight the differences of my youngest child.
Perhaps it’s me, stressed and rushed, prepping and primping.
Perhaps it’s him, the little boy who thrives on the expected and a daily schedule.
Maybe it’s just everything.
Maybe it’s the not knowing.
I want to know what he wants for Christmas.
I want us to sit by the fire and watch the Grinch.
I want us to talk about Santa and leaving him cookies and carrots for the reindeer.
I want us to sit at the Christmas Eve service and not worry about leaving in the middle.
I want him to be giddy with the thought of gifts that will be left just for him.
My biggest heartache is the not knowing.
I want to know this precious child better and I don’t.
And, that has to be okay because it is our real.
This year will be the one of casting aside the what if’s and should have been’s and embracing the what is.
I won’t pretend that grief doesn’t jab my heart, but I won’t let it rule the day.
I’ll shed a tear or two, grab my coat and when he asks to swing, we shall walk to the playground and I will notice his joy.
Maybe I do know him, after all.