Be A Blessing

by dalisonwatt

When Alexa gets out of the van in the afternoons, she happily walks with me into the house and says, “Then, take a ride.”  Whatever she decides to do first – have a snack or watch some youtube, she wants me to know that next we will be taking a ride, no negotiations.

I often drive with her to the beach and then make a big loop back to our town.  I know she likes this route because she says, “This way,” when we’re facing the beach and it’s time to turn.

On Monday, we were making our way back towards Amesbury when we stopped at a traffic light.  There was one car in front of us with two people in it, a boy and girl.  The boy was driving.   The girl had a short, blond ponytail.  I watched, transfixed, as the boy stopped the car and their two heads met in the middle for what turned out to be a lengthy and involved kiss.

I wondered how long I would have to wait behind these two lovebirds, but when the light turned green they broke apart and drove on.  Just as I was putting my foot on the gas pedal I heard Alexa say from the backseat, “Kiss the girl.”

I didn’t think she had seen the kiss, but obviously we both had been staring at the couple.  I laughed out loud.  What a perfect place to put that line from a song in “The Little Mermaid” movie.  “Come on and kiss the girl!”

I wanted to know so badly what she thought of that kiss, but the idea of her seeing it sort of pained me.  Those kids looked to be about her age.  Because of her autism, there is so much of life that she misses out on.  Usually we can go our own way in ignorant bliss, but sometimes there life is – staring you in the face when you’re stuck behind a car at a traffic light.

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I am grieving for my mom.  I miss her so much.  Those days spent with her in hospice haunt me.  Not “haunt” in a bad, scary way but in a tender, hurting way.  The gentle throbbing of a wounded heart.

Her absence seems so large.  When my dad died suddenly 16 months ago, it felt like he hung around for a little bit.  We felt a whisper of his presence for a while.  My mom, on the other hand, worked hard to get to heaven.  I remember watching her trying to focus her eyes as she reached her arm straight up, lifting her body only to fall back on the pillows.  “I can’t reach it,” she weakly said.  When she finally made it there, I think she never looked back.  I think she ran right in and kept on running as far as she could go.  That is why I don’t feel her around me.

My brothers and sisters and I decided to put a basket out at her Memorial Service filled with stamped, colorful cards.  My sister made a sign that said, “Be a Blessing.”  We wanted people to take a card and send it to someone like my mom had done so often – to encourage, to uplift, to be a blessing to someone else.

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Life does not pause for the grieving.  I am sitting here with mounds of paperwork because Alexa will be turning 22 on April 2nd.  This is a big birthday because it signifies a move out of the educational system and into the adult system of services.  It calls for a celebration, but I’m not sure I am up to having a big party yet.

Steve and I have been talking it over, trying to decide what to do.  Last night he came back from tucking her into bed and told me he had asked Alexa what she would like to do for her birthday.  He said, “Do you want to have a party?” “Party.  Yes.”  “Who would you like to come?” The first person she named was a caregiver that used to work for us but whom we haven’t seen for quite a while.

We’ve had wonderful people come into our lives through a family support program in our state.  We stay in touch with some but it is natural for their lives to change, for them to move on.  Usually I take it all in stride but last night it just seemed like one more reason to grieve – the fact that my daughter doesn’t know how to make friends of her own.  She has our family friends and people from the program who are paid.  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but there is a huge part of life she is missing out on and sometimes I worry about whether or not she knows.

I’ve been hearing about other mothers who mourn this for their children.  One story was recently on the news.  A mom asked her Facebook friends to send her son who had autism a card for his birthday and added it was all right to “share.”  He got cards from all over the world.

I understand this request completely because we parents of children with autism need society to be aware that friendships rely on communication and our kids struggle hugely with that.  Alexa loves people and wants to communciate.  You can tell by the way her eyes dance when people make the effort to engage.

I wonder if it is time to be a blessing to more people with autism. I wonder if there should be a movement of sending them birthday cards. A beautiful symbol reaching across the communication gap saying that there is a world of friends who care.

If you want to be a blessing to Alexa, please send her a card for her birthday. Musical cards are her favorite. She keeps them in a special basket and opens them often. They produce the sweetest of smiles.

Alexa Watt
7 Old County Road
Amesbury, MA 01913

I will end this blog with these borrowed lines from Helen Keller:

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”

Blessings upon blessings to you!