I could stop with the title above, say nothing else, and every special needs parent in the world--especially the moms--would know exactly what I mean. But here I have something very specific in mind. My son Noah graduated from elementary school in June of this year. Each child had to share his or her "words of wisdom" with the audience. Noah walked through the cardboard archway on the stage, emblazoned with "2008" and boldly said into the microphone, "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. The Little Engine that Could." Meaning no disrespect to the other parents there, my ears heard the loudest applause for Noah's "words of wisdom." As he always does when he's on stage, he took a bow, then walked to the left of the stage, to get his diploma from the principal. Then he exited the stage and walked back to his seat, collecting congratulations and Hi-5s from his classmates.
If ever there were a motto for special needs kids and parents, "I think I can" fits the bill. It's what we tell ourselves when we can't do any more, but know we must. It's what we hope our children are telling themselves when they tackle the everyday tasks that for many of them are like climbing Mt. Everest. It's all wrapped up in that one little phrase. When Noah proudly spoke those words, I cried. Tears of joy, tears of heartache, tears of laughter. All the things Noah means to us. But at that moment, it was all good. He had climbed a mountain, and planted his flag at the top. I think I can indeed...
2 comments:
I agree, Nina. That's one of those bittersweet moments when we go to our child's graduation ceremony. Our minds tell us we should be there to share in the special event, but our hearts tell us differently. Why was I weeping uncontrollably at my son Ross's Moving Up ceremony? Up there, on the stage, is my beautiful 16 year old boy. The principal reads his name and he refuses to get out of his seat. Although he won't get up, he does press the button on his communication device which recites his speech thanking his teachers and therapists in middle school. It's a small success, but it's a success nonetheless. His big smile lights up the room, his eyes sparkle, and he gets a huge round of applause. For a moment, my tears stop and I can briefly enjoy the ceremony. Good job, Ross. I'm glad we came to see you on this special day.
ok, laurie, now you made me cry. we're even. nina
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