It’s almost two years since we first went to our paediatrician. It will be two years next week.
It will also be two years next week since my Nan died. On Mothers Day in fact. The two things will be forever linked in my mind, because as we tried to swallow the massive shift in our families fabric and find our way through, my nan was slipping away from us.
Calls were made to Poss’ school from the Intensive Care department. Yes, the paediatrician thinks Aspergers. Calls were made to family. Yes, we think it’s nearly time, come now. We cried hot bitter tears and I still don’t know what tears were for who.
So during that time, I did what I do. I googled, I looked online for answers. While we sat long late nights, sipping Chai lattes in the hospital, we spoke about the future for Poss and googled. Searching. Not finding what we needed to know. We felt incredibly alone and frightened for what would come next.
Two years later I know more. I am more confident now about Poss’ future, that initial grief has lifted. Nan has gone and life has continued on much as before, but with one less voice. At this time of year it digs in sharply, hurting more, but honestly, I still don’t know who the tears are for.
I know where to look now though. There is no more googling and finding nothing. I’ve found my community, my people. They understand, they have walked the road we have been down. They might not be able to help me with my tears for Nan, but they have cried those tears for Poss themselves, for their own children.
The tears will still come, but we are no longer alone. Nan probably wouldn’t have understood, but I like to think she would be proud.