I write here because I love my
son. I write because I believe that his story needs to be told, not for his
sake, although I have been able to make positive connections to some very special
people through his story, but because there are many who undergo similar
devastating circumstances, thinking as I did, that they are doing so quite
alone.
It has happened on several
occasions that individuals who have entered my home in order to assist me with
Segev or have gotten to know our situation have made comments of a similar
nature to me.
Formed as a question the gist of
the comment is usually,
What will be with you after
Segev is gone?
Then, without further ado, these
individuals offer to answer their own question:
You’ll be destroyed.
You won’t know what to do with
yourself, you’ll be lost.
You’ll have nothing to cling
to anymore.
A comment, by Genevieve Jurgensen,
on my recent piece “Les uns et les autres” here on the blog, is of special value
to me because she is a person who in her life was able to use great personal
tragedy to create a positive force that emanates far and wide. She is an ambitious person who succeeded in
having a very significant impact on road safety in her native France. I too am
ambitious. My knowledge and experience as a para-medical and extreme caregiver
has allowed a particular insight into areas which can benefit children such as
my son and others in similarly catastrophic conditions. I would like to think
that sharing certain aspects of our lives are part of an evolution of thinking
and ability in dealing with such situations. My own doubts and concerns lie
exposed in order to have a transparent conversation, a prerequisite to true
learning.
What will be with me after Segev
is gone? Perhaps rather startling, perhaps obtuse, perhaps an insightful
question. But I have an ambition which transcends my time with Segev which is
to show that despite the hardships there is something useful to be gleaned.
There is something tremendously positive in the experience, despite the
obviously difficult struggle.
When forging iron into a tool you
must subject it too unbearable temperatures and pound it endlessly into
submission. The same goes for the writing and hence understanding. Here there
is no fixed form or certainty, simply the endless pounding of molten experience.
Slowly form and function will be clear.
Resilience naturally emanates
ambition. You can be broken, but that doesn’t indicate a lack of anything. Not
perception, nor inclination. Not a lack of fortitude nor conviction.
The greatest resilience I have
witnessed in my life comes from my son. Don’t they know that such a strength
carries you forward? A preemption of certitude that will be waiting?
I know exactly where I want to be
ten, fifteen years from today and it has everything to do with Segev,
whether he is here with me or not.
So the next time someone says to
me, ‘you won’t survive’, I will nod appreciatively, so as not to appear
antagonistic or closed to ‘helpful criticism’ and remain polite. But I will be
thinking only one thing to myself:
STFU
STFU is a mild reaction to whatever it is that makes people seem to think all the normal boundaries of politeness are somehow not applicable. Especially in your home! WTF....
ReplyDeleteI must wholeheartedly agree with "A." Although probably a mindless question, I would have ushered said person out of my home...that energy is not needed nor helpful.
ReplyDeleteOur unity with our kids gives us a resilience which surpasses time and presence...they are always with us. And their story is life continuing itself...I somehow think that whatever the future holds, you will always be simply doing the good that you have learned....doing the good is what it's all about; that's the sustaining force.
Amen!
ReplyDeleteYour last acronym was, of course, what was running through my head, so I smiled, despite the gravity of this post.
ReplyDelete