The Greatest Love of All

No, this is not a tribute to the late singer. Far from it.

Many years ago, I attended a First Holy Communion ceremony of my nephew in a parish in Mandaue City. As it was Daniel’s turn to receive communion, I looked over his mom, who was my cousin. She had tears in her eyes that she tried to conceal by dabbing the corners of her eyes. When my nephew approached her, he innocently asked, “nganung hilak man ka, Ma?” (Why are you crying, Mom?”) His mom responded, “Big naman ka. “ (Because you’re grown up already.) My “kulit” nephew insisted, “ Unya, nganu man diay ug big nako, hilak diay ka?” (So what if I’m grown up already, why would you cry?”) I remember she answered, “ You will only understand when you will have kids of your own…”

Now, fast forward to the present. I attended our Preschool Graduation ceremony yesterday. The motions of receiving the diploma and awards and such flowed like clockwork. The moms and dads beaming with joy as their 6-year olds received their certificates of graduation, ribbons and medals. The graduates in their dainty graduation dresses and long-sleeve barongs—all a wonderful sight to see. The day marked a milestone for them--how much they have achieved and how far they have come academically and perhaps in all other areas of development. I was present during the ceremony as part of the administration although realizing how very little participation I contributed in the process compared to the past years when the sped center wasn’t founded yet. It was one of those many programs in school for the past year where I found myself being more of an audience than an organizer this time. I was able to just sit back and enjoy the whole process just like all the other parents in the venue. Then a thought came across out of the blue, “Now I’m a parent too.” Of course not like the others who had kids marching on that stage receiving their diplomas and awards. But like them, I was happy for their children. As sentimental as perhaps all mothers can be, I am the worst of them all. I fight back the tears as each child smiles proudly holding his diploma for all to see while the photographer clicks his camera away. If a K2 student were to approach me and ask me the same question my nephew asked his mother many years ago, I think, my answer would not have been any different from how my cousin answered her own son.

It’s not hard to understand how our boys may not have the “normal” usual graduation experience with the diplomas and awards and all. They will have a different kind of milestone celebration. Correction, they are having a different kind of milestone celebration every year if not every day. One of the wonderful things in living with Autism is the fact that I am given the opportunity to always be grateful for what little or big achievement my boys have made. I am grateful every day for every single thing they are able to do, ask properly for a cookie without throwing a tantrum, hold a pen with the proper tripod grip, gesture to an adult that they need to go to the bathroom, fold their clothes properly, pack away things without getting frustrated, all these little details that are so easily mastered by the “normal” kids without a glitch. As for the future, planning for college, applying for work, living an independent life, this reality is still far away. But a very real reality, if there is such a term, nonetheless. We face it with all the courage and strength we could muster one day at a time.

So when the graduation march blasts through the speakers in the graduation hall, and the little ones march on stage, in my heart of hearts if I could speak to all the parents candidly, I would say to them,

I hope every single day without fail; you tell your child he’s doing a great job.

I hope every single day, you tell him that he made you proud he achieved all these things, learning to read and write and speak volumes of stories.

I hope every single day you tell your daughter she’s doing just great behaving and listening to the teachers.

I hope every single day, you tell her “Good job, darling” for willingly going to school happy and excited to learn new things.

I hope when your son brings a test sheet scoring an 80 out of a 100, you tell him, “Well done, my son. For as long as you have learned something, then that is all that matters.”

I hope when your daughter brings a test sheet scoring a 97 out of a 100 this time compared to the perfect 100 the last quiz, you tell her, “you are still amazing, no matter what.”

I hope that even when your child does not belong to the top 10 of the class you still tell him, “You are my son and you are a wonderful, wonderful son.”

I hope that when your child comes home all sweaty and dirty and out of breath, school uniform in disarray, you tell him, “I am happy you had fun at school.”

I hope that when your child comes home and bothers you with all his chitchat about all the friends he or she met in school, you stop what you are doing and tell him or her, “ okay, little one, tell me about your friends. Better yet, tell me about your day.”

I hope that during weekends or summer break, when school is out and he has nothing to do at home, and he is getting bored and keeps wanting your attention, you don’t get annoyed. Instead you tell him, “Come, and let’s do something fun together.”

I hope that when she has nothing to do but ask you endless questions about the universe, the earth, and everything under the sun, you don’t make her keep quiet, but instead, you say, “I love it when you ask these questions, so I could get to know you better and you get to know me better and you learn about this life you have been given.”

I hope that when he goes to bed at night and see him still fast asleep in the early hours of the morning, your first thought is not what things he should be achieving, what medals he should be reaping, what he should be when he grows up, what sort of wife he should be marrying, how much money he should be making. I hope your first thought would be, “Thank you God for my child for all that he is and all that he can be.

So, to answer the question why I got emotional during the ceremony, it is because, I realize how Garret and Morgan have grown. They have come so far. In their own way, they have reached their own individual milestones. They may not have medals or diplomas to show off but just their very existence—their joy, their exuberance for life, and most of all the lessons they teach me every day is worth more than any piece of ribbon or plaque. With wonderful awe, I realize I do have two children of my own now. Now I understand.

And the other reason my heart is twisted in knots is because I am reminded that regardless of what Autism brings to the table, I am still blessed. For normal parents out there, I say this to you—you are blessed. No more or no less than us Autism Parents, actually. But maybe, if I may speak in behalf of all the autism parents out there, our challenges are different maybe even greater in most aspects. There are dreams for our children that we needed to let go of more than you. Your children have every ability, capacity and talent and resources to be who they want to be in the world. Root them to the ground as you show them you are grateful for what and who they are no matter what, as you show them they are loved no matter what. And this will give them wings to be what the universe wants them to be.

Being an autism mom does not give me the necessary credentials to be an authority on parenting. I am well aware of that. After all, we are all different, in situations, in coping mechanisms, in emotional and financial strengths and resources. But I think when it comes to being an authority on gratitude; I may be a qualified candidate. So all I am saying is, I hope, as I am constantly sharing my beautiful and the not so beautiful experiences that Autism brings to my life, I am able to impart and maybe engrave in your hearts that attitude of living a thankful life. Simply because you are blessed—blessed with children who are beautiful the way the Creator made them, healthy and happy. Simply because you can do the things you are doing, your children are enjoying their childhood and soon their youth. Simply because you are alive.

After the school director’s closing remarks and reminders for the coming school year, the Kinder 2 graduates stood up and got ready to sing their graduation song. Facing their parents, the beginning notes of possibly the most beautiful love song resonated through the graduation hall. And the little boys and girls with all their innocence, joy and exuberance sang,

I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier…..

Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me
I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all

Michael Masser couldn’t have written the lyrics any better. I said before that for me life is love exemplified. Well what is love? And what is the greatest love? Garret and Morgan are teaching me every single day, without fail, that to be grateful—to appreciate them for who they are, their individualities, their eccentricities, their beauty, their strength, their frailties and their triumphs-- to live a very thankful life is the greatest love of all.

One last admonition to all parents out there; I hope as your child wakes up every morning, your first words to him or her would be this; “You are enough. You are amazing. You are beautiful. And you will be who you want to be. And no matter where life takes you, you are loved. I love you.”

So, you see this is not a tribute to the late singer or the songwriter. This is a tribute to all the children, all our children.

This is for you, my Garret and my Morgan, my Little Prince and Feisty King. You are enough. You are amazing. You are beautiful. You will be who the universe wants you to be. Mama and Papa love you so so much.