A friend just recently bid farewell. And when she said it, almost immediately a knot twisted inside. I knew her goodbye had all the right reasons. Still, I knew whatever reasons she had would fail to untie the knot I felt in my heart. But it was not just she particularly. Her goodbye, it seemed, was the last straw that brought forth all the bottled up emotions I had inside for all the goodbyes I had in my life for the past 8 years. People came and went. I came and went. Friends choosing a better life, better career opportunities. Colleagues who became friends who eventually had to leave for various reasons, for inevitable choices they had to make. Like I said, for whatever reasons they had, somehow the pain is all coming back to me just as if they left yesterday.
On a lighter note, though, let me relate to you how my partner and I “strategize” when our 7 year-old of a son, Garret is becoming smarter each day not letting us out of his sight so much so that we have to “escape” his clutches so we can have some alone time by ourselves or just simply a break. We were getting tired of having to drive around the city so that by the time we come back to the house, Garret will have stopped whining and gone back to his room and “forgetting” he wants our attention. So, last week, this was how it went:
Garret was noticing more and more how we would disappear right around dinner time, so what he did was he stayed with us at the dinner table, waiting patiently for us to finish our meal. Waiting patiently for me to finish doing the dishes. Waiting ever so patiently for me clearing up the table. Finally inside our bedroom, as I opened my laptop, he sat beside me or rather sat on my lap and began kissing me on the cheek making goo-goo charming eyes at me. And whenever I stood up to get something, he had a vise grip on my arm. I had to laugh at his strategy as well. So when it was almost 9 p.m. we told him, “Garret you have to take a bath because you smell bad. And it’s not nice to sleep smelling bad.” So I brought him to the bathroom and asked his caregiver to give him a bath. When he went inside, I instructed his caregiver to close the bathroom door, after which I immediately went back to our bedroom. My partner was already in the closet waiting for me. Yes, our plan was to hide in our own closet so that when Garret would come looking for us in the room and he found that the lights were off and no mama or papa were to be found, case closed! Are you amused enough already? We hid in the closet for about 10 minutes just to make sure he was already in his own room with Morgan.
In my son’s world, he has to see order the way he likes it. And part of this order includes his mama and papa being around all the time for him or during certain parts of the day. And Morgan has to be with him in the room too. So he does not like it when either one of us is not within his line of sight. I often wonder will things get better when he gets older? Will he be better able to manage separation anxiety when he’s bigger? Will he understand when someone says goodbye? Will he ever understand the word goodbye? I know he understands it when the “bye-bye” song is sung at the end of sped class. He understands it well because for him it means, end of doing schoolwork and going home with Mama, Papa and Morgan and his koi pond. I would like to think that autism allows his world to be simple, uncomplicated, and devoid of unnecessary emotion that allows “normal” people to be stuck, unable to move forward. Again this may be a blessing in a way for my son. What amazes me though is that Garret exhausts all ways and means to make sure for as long as he can to let me be with him. Even if it just means sitting down with him as he splish splashes in the koi pond for two whole hours, which is just what he wanted this afternoon. Now I am able to write this post because most likely he was already contented with the time I spent with him—the two hours in the koi pond. He was satisfied and now he is able to let me go out of the room and do my own thing while he does his.
Going back to my more somber mood, I wish I could turn back time and spent more time with the friends and loved ones who left. I wish I could have exhausted all ways and means to make sure for as long as I can to be with them. So that when they left, I could have honestly said to myself, “ Okay nako. I’m okay now. You can go wherever you want to go.” This is why the knot has gotten tighter when my friend declared she was leaving. When will I ever learn? So many things I take for granted until the time comes that it is taken away or when friends leave out of their own volition or out of the inevitability of the circumstances of their lives.
A brilliant writer recently said, “When you are brave enough to say goodbye, life rewards you with new hellos.”
To be brave is to be able not only to say the words, “yes, I can let you go,” but most essentially to live in full awareness that your time with the person has ended because you have exhausted everything, given everything—time, love, compassion, kindness and wisdom to that person. And it is okay that it has ended because a new life has to begin, and new relationships have to be built.
I am quick to say goodbye. But I am slow to recover-- A delayed reactor, thus, this post. Rationally I know life goes on. But in my heart of hearts, I ask, “Why? Why does it have to be that way?”.
I wish I were like my son now. Whenever he sees that I left the room or house, of course he cries and screams and whines, but then he eventually wipes his tears and moves on. When I come back he is back to his old self smiling, giggling and making goo-goo eyes at me again. As much as he expresses very clearly how he wants my attention all the time, he is quick to recover. I wish I had half of Garret’s resilience because like all other neuro-typical human beings, I get stuck. I am stuck. Because I take things --people for granted.
One marked characteristic of children in the autism spectrum is their fixation on objects or persons of interest. In Garret’s case, he so loves his 3 rubber balls, colored yellow, orange and black and white. He carries it with him whenever he goes. All three balls must be present. Two won’t do. And just one will definitely get you in trouble. When I think about it, the ruling principle in my son’s world is quite simple—I like my 3 balls. Therefore I have to hold all three of them. No excuses. If one gets lost, I have to look for it.
Sometimes I wish my life were simple like that. You are an important person in my life. Therefore I will hold on to you with everything I can. If you get lost, I will look for you.
Autism in our life has taught me many things, showed me how life should be lived, changing my perspectives every single time, disproving old beliefs and creating new ones. Today, it has forced me to remember what is important in my life, or life in general for that matter—people are what matters the most. And when you love them, you hold on to them no matter what so that when the inevitable happens and it is finally time to let go, it will be okay. The knot will have been untied after that brave declaration of farewell. And I will be ready to move on and welcome new hellos.
Another lesson learned today. I hope I get to follow through. And I hope when my friend comes back, I won’t make the same mistake again.
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