Four months later, I see beauty, strength, wisdom, depth, inspiration, and community all around me. It took my heart being broken for this revision to manifest, but I can see clearly now. (The rain is gone. I can all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright) sun-shiny day. Dude. Couldn't resist. That song is speakin' my language these days.)
I see my new heroes. I watched "My Brother, Teddy." on The NYTimes.com this morning while I was getting ready for school, and I was transfixed not by the dancing Emma but by the quiet strength of her brother Teddy. In one shot she's dancing all around him while he stands there. Unable to dance. But he's standing and trying and living and amazing me with his presence. Damn cerebral palsy. Why did you have to take his dance away? There isn't a good answer to this. But in the face of this undeserved, overwhelming challenge, he STANDS.
Yes, I admire parents of children with disabilities something fierce. I imagine it can sometimes feel like a long, lonely road. I now understand why parents advocate so determinedly for their children, why special education needs to not be an afterthought or inconvenience to schools, why handicapped parking spaces and ramps really matter, why events should provide sign language interpreters even if only one person there needs them. All parents try to provide as many opportunities to their children as possible; I think parents of children with special needs try to do this in a world not always designed to make it easy for their children to realize such opportunities. It's amazing what love can do, though. You love your child more than you care about what other people think, how hard it might be to provide your child with that opportunity, or what "success" your child may or may not achieve down the road. You step up because your child needs and deserves a team, and by golly, you're going to be the captains.
But I would argue that there's another reason why parents step up: we know that our children are the true heroes. We see how hard they work to find their way in this overwhelming world; we know their strength. Grant is already and forever will be my hero. As I put him through his therapy exercises, I both curse his extra chromosome and marvel at his determination and happy disposition. When he rolls over onto his back and finds my eyes again, he breaks out this killer smile such that I can't help but scoop him up into my arms and hug the heck out of him.
It's like this kid singing the Coolest version of Ho Hey. He is working so so so hard every day to do the things I take for granted, so when I watch this video, I can't help but get all teary and inspired. This is beauty to me now.
There are people and stories all around me, around all of us, that deserve to be seen. I didn't see them clearly until Grant was born. He has helped me not only see them but feel them.
My dear friend Katie posted the following story and picture from Humans of New York on my FB page today. I read it and thought, YES. Here is a man "leaning heavily on his cane" and yet he "went through life looking for the smallest excuses to be happy."
I found this man on 7th Avenue in Park Slope. He was leaning heavily on his cane, looking down, wearing a grimaced face. I felt bad for him, so I smiled and waved when I walked past. His face changed completely. He lit up, smiled wide, and gave me a cheery greeting. There was nothing forced about it. He seemed like a man who went through life looking for the smallest excuses to be happy.
I walked 50 feet down the sidewalk, turned around, and walked back to him. "I want to take your photo," I told him, "because of how big you smiled when I walked by."
He said: "Well I saw someone smiling at me who I didn't even know. So I thought: 'By God! I Better do something!'"
I too better do something. There are people all around me facing incredible challenges and rocking life despite--because?--of them. I see them now. I applaud them now. And I will admire them forever.
Keep standing, Teddy. Keep singing, Van. Keep smiling, Grant. You're showing everyone how to live.
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