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    Oh Won't You Come Home: On Letting Go (Just a Little Bit)
    By Kim Wombles | June 2nd 2012 08:43 AM | 4 comments | Print | E-mail | Track Comments
    About Kim

    Instructor of English and psychology and mother to three on the autism spectrum.

    Writer of the site countering.us (where most of these

    ...

    View Kim's Profile
    Change is a heartless bitch at times and a welcome friend at others--guess it depends on what the change is and whether you saw it coming and welcomed it. Part of being a teacher is accepting a routine of change--semesters pass, summer sessions and minimesters compress a semester, and students come and go. There's a rhythm and flow to courses, and change is constant throughout the semester: students get comfortable, relationships form, knowledge deepens and the class roster goes through changes. Not every student who begins the semester with me will make it to the end. Some leave early, before they've become familiar to me, but others stick around long enough for me to miss their presence.

    So change is something I deal with routinely as part of my work. Change is also part of my online life, as well. Bloggers come and go, friendships start and stutter, while others grow ever stronger and closer. It's similar to school, where people are constantly coming and going from my life.

    Change is also constant as a hospice volunteer, and one I'm learning to accept and appreciate, that I can be there at key times, but not there when my presence is no longer needed.

    At home, though, routine's the name of the game, and change often comes slowly, especially when it comes to Bobby and his skill development. His presence in my daily life is a constant, so when he's not there, wow. Bobby's always there. He went camping with his grandparents in April, but as the girls, Rick and I were busy at a golf tournament, it wasn't quite as obvious as it was this week when he left on Tuesday with his grandparents for another camping trip.

    Fortunately, he came home this afternoon, and I was happy to see his smiling face. We texted while he was gone, and one evening he even texted me "sweet dreams," which melted my heart. He's a keeper, my boy, with a wide open heart.

    Lily rushed to him this afternoon when she saw him and hugged him and Rosie wandered his way and greeted him. We were all, in our own ways and for our own reasons, happy to have him home. He is part of the fabric of our lives, and when he's not there, it feels like threads unraveling.

    He had a good time while he was gone, and we got along okay with him gone, but it was quiet here without him. His laugh didn't ring out. His constant chattering wasn't there, and Lily was quieter without him here. Rosie wandered at loose ends, not as connected and interactive as when he's here.

    It was a window into what daily life would be like if he were like other 22 year olds and out on his own. While I want and hope Bobby will continue to grow and learn and increase his skill set so that he can be as self-reliant as possible, I hope that he will always be close to us; I may dream of a day where he can live independently, but that doesn't mean I'd want him much farther away than next door.

    I'm happy to have him back home. Some changes can wait a good long while, you know? Besides, he's a great cook, and he's the only one who routinely gives me a peck on the cheek every morning and every night. It's nice to be loved, you know. 

    Comments

    ***** (5 star) Wow...I know about that feeling of letting go. I've got a late bloomer, too.

    kwombles
    Thanks, Rose. It's such a hard thing to let go. 
    “Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” --MLK, Jr.
    Bonny Bonobo alias Brat
    Kim, you sound as though you have a very rich and emotionally stimulating family life that many people would envy, even though I realise it is also very demanding for you. My oldest son has gone to uni last year and I miss him terribly, he occasionally visits and rarely rings, sometimes we chat briefly on facebook! 

    I keep reminding myself that I should be happy that he is now onto his next stage in life, well entrenched with new friends and coping admirably and that I should not be envious of my friends whose sons and daughters haven't gone to uni and are still working and/or living at home. This probably sounds weird but when I was pregnant with him I refused to have an amniosentisis to test for Down syndrome, because at the time I was quite sure that I would still have been happy to have a Down's child regardless of the many down sides because they are often such loving but dependent children and adults and rarely leave home!
    My article about researchers identifying a potential blue green algae cause & L-Serine treatment for Lou Gehrig's ALS, MND, Parkinsons & Alzheimers is at http://www.science20.com/forums/medicine
    kwombles
    Thanks, Helen.
    There's a measure of comfort in being able to maintain a closeness of relationship that makes it easier when milestones pass by unmet--I continue to remind myself that I'm lucky in so many ways. 

    It's not weird at all--I refused amnio, as well, knowing that whatever child I had I would be lucky to raise. :)
    “Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” --MLK, Jr.
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