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:
ahem! moving along...