This week we took Avi to a new school hoping to get him enrolled in their preschool program, and by default their speech therapy. The result was predictably another waiting list. But this entry isn't really about the two hours of question and answer, of observation of Avi or even of the funny things he said and did while we were there. No, this blog is about a moment, just a brief moment in that room. The worker was asking us a lot of questions about our families, our relationship with our children and then our relationship with each other. She asked, "How do you think all of this (all of this being Autism and the "all of this" that only a parent of such a child could know). I started to formulate an answer in my head, thinking about the stress, the time consuming therapies and preschools, worry, self doubt and frustration that sometimes creep in when all of the sudden the moment hit me.
It surprised me and I have to say that sitting here remembering it I'm still awash in the power of that moment. Before I could open my mouth to give my carefully formulated answer, you, Debbie, were answering. You said, "I wouldn't want anyone else." Then explained to the worker why. I was so lost in the moment that I didn't really hear what followed. You are such a beautiful example of love. In that moment where you looked at me so lovingly and fully understandingly that my love and awe were renewed yet again. Thank you.
I didn't get to say it then but I'm saying it now in front of the whole Internet (and all three followers of our blog!) that I wouldn't want anyone else either. I wouldn't want anyone else to hold my hand. To wake up and hold me when I soak my pillow with tears in the still of the night when I think I can get away with it. I wouldn't want anyone else to raise my boys, to show them the love that they will carry out into the world. To teach them the things that, try as they might, fathers just can't teach. I wouldn't want anyone else to push me out of bed and drag me to church. I wouldn't want anyone else to pass through this life, embracing its trials, its joys, its incredibly rich experiences or anyone else to hold hands with through the eternities into the unknown joy that awaits us. Deborah, I wouldn't want anyone else, ever. Thank you.
Just so you know, I still remember the first time I saw you. The sunlight lighting you from behind, highlighting the curls that you try so hard to straighten. My memory seems to pass in slow motion as I passed by you afraid to talk to you yet strangely feeling compelled to. I have no idea what I said to you, but I remember your beautiful smile that lit up your face as we spoke. I remember that despite the Macey's uniform you were the most beautiful thing my eyes had ever been lucky enough to fall on. Though, thankfully, the uniform is gone one thing has not changed, you are still beautiful. You still amaze and inspire me. And someday, when I grow up, I want to be like you.
Debbie, thank you for talking to me that day. Thank you for so many things, too numerous, too amazing to write here. Thank you for that beautiful moment in a tiny room of an old building. Thank you for every beautiful moment of everyday.
I love you.