Our One Day

"I love you,"
"You yuv mee."
"We're a happy family"
"Wee a gey bee huh"
"And a kiss from me to you"
"Won yoo say"
"You love me..."
"Choo.."

Today. I sing the first line of the ever famous Barney song. Garret sings the second line. And so on and so forth. We are lying on the bed on this rainy afternoon, my left hand holding his and we are singing. Together. Wait, let me rewind. Let me repeat that in case you missed one crucial point-- Garret is singing the lines, actually verbalizing the words. We finish the last notes of this song and my heart is twisted in knots marveling at how far my little prince have come.


July 18, 2013. Three weeks ago. My little Prince said the most beautiful word to my ears for the very first time. "Mama". When he said it three times, yes not just once, but one, two, three times, my world literally spun that I didn't know where to put their bug spray and their bag. I was stupefied, amazed, awed. All the synonyms of that emotion that leave your mouth hanging open and heart bursting at the seams would pretty much describe how I felt at that time until now.

I have heard too many testimonies of how when mothers saw their children for the first time in their arms, they cried and felt that one unbreakable bond in an instant. And even more stories of their children's first words at 10 months old or younger. Words as significant as "Mama". When I gave birth to Garret, all the testimonies and stories I heard remained just that-- narratives to me. Of course there is no question, I love him with the whole weight of the universe but somehow I couldn't connect to him the way I expected to. I don't know if Autism caused this "disconnection" that I so deeply felt but wanted badly to deny, maybe it did. And when the months went by until he turned 3 years old, when still no "mama" or "papa" was heard from his lips, questions began to pile up in my head and in my heart waiting to be hurled to the universe of which no answers were heard as well.

From the time Garret was then diagnosed at three years old hence, and a slew of therapies and special education commenced, life began unfolding in ways I could not even predict or sometimes even understand. What was clear in the years that have gone by was the one undeniable truth of how my little prince was teaching me the ropes of life. And not the other way around. Acceptance. Gratitude. Courage. Strength. Resilience, And Love above all. Among the questions that piled up was the one that bore the heaviest load, "Why Autism? Why my sons?" I only have to look at my Garret and my Morgan and see the joy in their faces at the simplest things and see the courage in the full breadth of their souls to face everyday hurdles in living in this normal world of ours and I find the answers I am searching for.

To be honest, my faith has seen countless days of wavering strength. Frustration came in all forms. Anger directed at the universe of the "unfairness" of it all. More questions--"Why couldn't my son still not talk? Will I have the strength to carry on?" How did I get through days like this? I just let go. I asked the hard questions and allowed myself to weep and be angry. And then when everything that was toxic and dark and not good went out of my system, I gathered whatever strength there was left and pooled the support and love of friends and family and used it to support my weight long enough to stand on my own two feet again. "Mama said there'd be days like this. "

And days of bliss...

Just when I was about to give up, the tide turned. Our One Day came. Let me tell you the details of what transpired the day my world spun:

I was blow-drying my hair, getting ready for school a.k.a. work a.k.a. teacher-momma mode. And in the mirror, I saw Garret approach me, wanting me to be done with whatever I was doing because he wanted to go already. I turned off the blow dryer and looked at the mirror, I cupped his face and said, "Look, Mama and Garret." I pointed to our faces in the mirror. He then said, nonchalantly, "Ma-ma". I was dumbfounded so I brought him outside and told his father, "He said, Mama." His father said, "Maybe it was ma-na (finish in our vernacular), as in he wanted you to finish blow drying your hair." I told Garret this time, "Garret say, Mama." To which he said, "ma-ma". I requested that he say it again. And he said "Mama" Twice. And that was when my world transformed into a roller coaster of joy and tears.

8 years. A slew of therapists and therapies. One word. "Mama." Miracles happen. Breakthroughs are possible. The Universe certainly knows what it's doing.

As I am typing this now, Garret approaches me with his pack of biscuit. He says, "A-ma Bea, O-wan." I open his biscuit and hands it to him, I cue him, "Tha--" He continues, "Chan-chyu."

Mama Bea. Open. Thank you. Five words. And more coming.

It has taken me a long time to write about this fateful day. Because I wanted to give it justice by writing it when all my senses are attuned to celebrate and laud my little prince. Because as much as this is about him saying the word that fills my heart with the greatest joy and content, this is about him breaking through one seemingly unbreakable wall of autism. One being this wall of apraxia that afflicts most kids on the spectrum. This is about my little prince Garret's courage and strength. This is about him experiencing the world as never before, being able to communicate, to explicitly express himself. One day, it won't be his mama anymore telling his and his brother's story. One day he will tell you himself. One day, Morgan too will tell his story. And I believe this with all my heart.

And this day wouldn't be possible at all without the love and dedication of his therapists, teachers and doctors and the unfaltering support of family and friends. I thank all of you. You know who you are. I will be forever grateful for your kindness and love you give to my boys and my entire family.

In the meantime, we continue to do what we always do. What my boys have taught me to do, live each day as if it were the first and last day of life, give it my all, do whatever it is that lights my fire, appreciate every single blessing, see everything as miracles and know that no matter what happens, hope is not lost.

And on this note...

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all...

-Emily Dickinson-

Lastly, as if I would forget the one who is looking down on everything perhaps in utter amusement at my lack of faith and human questioning, maybe even saying, " I told you so.", thank you, Universe.

In Loving Memory

Morgan was fussing about a very leafy plant of one of the tombstones and I was cajoling him to begin our exercise. Bianca, our chocolate dobe, Garret and Andro were already starting the usual rounds of walking when I noticed a girl dressed in a pretty dainty white dress and wearing a medal around her neck. Her brother snapped photos of her while she posed happily. The rest of the family gathered around a tombstone talking quietly. I  figured maybe this family came from the little girl’s graduation ceremony and decided to visit a loved one.

This is what I love about our Asian culture. Strong family ties-- the closeness that goes beyond death. I don’t really know the real story of the little girl’s family I observed earlier but what I could sense strongly was how they wanted the loved one who passed away to share in their joy and pride. Don’t we all?

Tomorrow is the big day. Garret will turn 7. Although among the Chinese, Garret will be turning 8 tomorrow. A child’s first birthday is counted as his 2nd year. When you think about it, it is actually seeing life with a forward thinking kind of perspective—a certain optimism to it. It is like saying, “Today starts my 32nd year of life.” Or in Garret’s case, tomorrow will be the beginning of day 1 of his 8th year in this world.

I digress. So we were at the memorial park visiting my father-in-law’s grave, Papa Ching and doing our usual exercise with our boys and our dog. Andro and I often say things like, “If Papa Ching were alive, I think he would never get enough of the boys. Maybe we won’t even get to see them because probably he would insist in having the boys over at their house all the time.” And I would add, “ Well, if my Papa Suy An were alive, the boys would already have been brought to the Chinese temple and hundreds of incense sticks would have been lighted for them for good fortune and to ward away unkind spirits.” We both badly wish how our fathers have been alive to see our boys, their faces, their healthy and robust bodies, their naughtiness, their achievements, and their uniqueness, their vibrant personalities. We imagine many times how much their faces could have beamed with joy everyday in seeing their grandchildren up and about their business of just being who they are—Garret being delighted like crazy over our newly built koi pond, thanks to his papa and Morgan with his constant skeptical look framed in his eternally knit eyebrows and pouty mouth. And tomorrow will just be one of those days. I wish Papa Suy An were here to see his prince of a grandchild turn 7 years old, or rather starting day 1 of his 8th year of life. I wish he was here alive right now. I wish it so badly sometimes it hurts.

Maybe love is really like that. When you love a person so badly, even if they pass on, the celebrations you have in this lifetime will never be truly complete without their presence, or at least without making them a part of your triumphs and joy in whatever way. That’s how family is to us-- thriving on a love that is so much stronger than death. So I truly understand the scenario I witnessed this afternoon of the little girl with the white dress and medal and her family. We have our own kind of graduation. Not the typical one with the medals and ribbons and certificates and all. But something definitely worth celebrating, not just during this time of the year, but all year-round—good health, great job going to school and therapy without complaining, doing tasks with little verbal or physical cues, understanding 2-step instructions, humming nursery rhymes in perfect tune, plunking piano keys to the tune of Old McDonald, butterfly kisses and tightest possible hugs with eyes crinkly, Chinese-y, learning to be independent, brushing own teeth, dressing oneself, carrying one’s bag, learning to cope even when mama is not around. All these things are worth celebrating. Every little milestone is a graduation in itself. And every single day, how we badly wish Papa Ching and Papa Suy An were here to witness it all with their own eyes. So in our own way, we make them a part of our everyday celebration, our everyday graduation.

They say we channel our loved ones’ character traits, mannerisms, philosophies and values when we miss them the most or to keep their memory alive so that it may seem like they are still right here with us. They say children are an extension of oneself, grandchildren all the more what with the third generation theory that the “lolos” and “lolas” (grandparents) are seemingly replicated among the “apos” (grandchildren). Morgan has this trait where he examines and observes all things before accepting it as worth his time. He has a mind of his own, a plan of his own all mapped out in his head. Garret is so easy to please, more compliant and more flexible than his kingly of a brother. When I ask Morgan for a kiss, he will kiss me only 3 times full on the lips, no more and no less. When I ask Garret for a kiss, he willingly gives his chubby cheeks or cute lips all the time. While Morgan has physical features that resemble Papa Ching, save for his light complexion and his eyes that disappear when he grins, Garret has ears that stick out like his beloved Chinese grandpa.

So what do we know? Papa Ching and Papa Suy An are here, right here beside us after all. They are seeing with their own eyes our beautiful boys’ life. They are witnessing our boys’ graduation every single day. They are both celebrating with us everyday.

The term “commencement exercises” that is always used in graduation ceremonies spelled out in Styrofoam cutouts embossed on every graduate’s stage backdrop means the beginning, to start anew. New possibilities. Optimism. Forward thinking. And coincidentally, as I am proudly 75 % Chinese, today, I choose to channel my father’s philosophy—Garret begins his first day of his eight year in this life tomorrow. I am ready for wonderful possibilities for him. I anticipate only amazing things he can achieve. I am optimistic that I will carry on. I will be strong for my little Prince and Feisty King. I will not let myself be easily discouraged or frustrated when people judge or criticize me. For every problem that is presented to me, I will look beyond the fingers and focus on the solution. And I will choose compassion, kindness and love above all things.

Whoever said parenting ends when life draws its final breath? I refute this. Apparently my papa is still teaching me, parenting me, loving me through his most potent channels of life and love, his grandchildren—Garret and Morgan. Papa Suy An is right here beside me. Right here in my heart. I must dare not forget this fact.

Thank you Papa Suy An for showing me what life is really all about—Compassion, Kindness and Love. And in what better way to show me all these three values than in the persons of your grandchildren, Garret and Morgan.

I miss you every single day, Papa. With all my heart, I love you with all my heart. And forever until I draw my last breath, I will always be your princess.