to answer a few "how are you?"s

okay, so i have some issues with what you're about to read (more on that in a minute), but the sentiment is valid and a good description of life these days:

When you have a child with special needs, so much of your time, emotion, and energy is spent protecting and defending that child that when death comes knocking rudely in the middle of the night and steals him away, the insult is especially cruel. The reality leaves you wailing at the moon--and rightly so.

Two years later, after my son's death, I don't wail at the moon every day. My moaning is gentler, more internalized, not always for the world to hear. I'm quieter, more accepting of my grief. I will always deeply mourn the loss of my son, and too many days, I still fall to my knees. There's comfort there.

When I do start strutting around like my life is back on track, the grief gods like to swoop down and knock me on the side of my head. "You aren't really in control of your life." they mock loudly. And they're right. When your child dies, one of the first things you learn is how little control any of us really has over the big moments in life that blindside us.

excerpted from Breakthrough Parenting for Children with Special Needs by Judy Winter

as for my issues? i suspect many of you, if i know who you are, know what's coming:

i can never fall to my knees "too many days". there's comfort there, yes, and rightly so. would that i could remember to do it more often!

wailing at the moon? not so much my style. but as an image of lonely mourning, it works. and mourning is lonely.

negative on the "grief gods". if you know me or have ever read my blog, you knew that was coming. enough said.

you'll also know, if you know me, that the period after "life" in that third paragraph is oh-so-wrong. and drives me crazy, yes. but as much as i have a reputation as a grammar nazi, i have the same as a plagiarism cop...and you'll never catch me misquoting even a grammar error! (and if you don't know me, you're no doubt now wondering...)

ahem! moving along...

mockery, no! and this is the most important bit. this is a gift. yes, the reminder that i am not in control can feel a little strong at times, and yes, i'd prefer not to be knocked about the head with it, and yes, i'd really prefer not to be blindsided by it; a gentle whisper would be nice. but darned if i'm not too deaf to even listen for the whisper! and i am grateful for the gift of not being in control. which is a pretty big step for someone who so loves--craves, even--being in control.