Legacy

Sawyer was given the middle name of Irvin. It was the name of my grandfather on my dad’s side. Irv was quirky and spent hours on the road selling neck ties while spending every other moment on the golf course. His priorities were ties and golf. His boys and his wife may have cracked the the top 3 but lumped together like his irons and woods in his golf bag.

When my father called me last week, he didn’t waste time letting me know that Irv’s widow, 93 years old, my grandmother had passed. If it sounds business like in delivery, it’s because it was. This was the end.

However, the end occurred years prior. Sawyer was only 2 years old in the midst of his pre-Autism diagnosis. He didn’t speak much, his walk was a wobble, and his interests were non existent.

This was my grandmothers only meeting with him. It only lasted a few days. She held him. She spoke to him. She smiled at him. She marveled at just what he was.

Looking back, the parallels meshed. My grandmother’s Dementia had just started. She started to just lose her self. She knew of us but began her journey into her own world. It was like she was passing Sawyer on a bridge as she was going one way, and he was going another. Both were in their own worlds but they were content in it.

My grandma had no recollection that I existed these last few years. The woman of strength and determination was here but in fact gone. It hurts. It makes me sad. I wish that it didn’t.

I have memories, I have pictures, I have my feelings. I don’t wish she had to be here just to be here. I do wish there was more opportunities for her to see Sawyer grow up along with my other two.

As I mourn her loss, all I can do is pass on what I know about her. That’s life. That’s love.

Sawyer may be in his own world at times but to honor those of the past, I will continue to celebrate what was. That’s what legacy is all about.

Tooth Fairy and the 603

I have been in a writing rut. I received an email informing me that I’m closing on one year of writing my blog. This was a kind reminder that I owe them money to retain my site. However, it made me read through all of my posts and made me question what direction I was going in. I’m talking two weeks of reviewing my own material.

I have spent nearly a year looking back into the past. I relived many moments of heartache and triumph. I thumbed through thousands of pictures in attempt to jog or jumpstart my memory. This is has helped me process years of being an autism dad. I have been honest, raw, and hopefully pure.

One thing I have learned this year is to focus on the now. The past has been written and the Sawyer of even a week ago is not the same. Understanding this has taken time. He isn’t 3,4, or 5 anymore.

He is a near 7 year old who is in first grade. With being this age, I tend to forget the small things that are truly big.

He was wiggling his first official loose tooth just about 2 weeks ago. He talked about it, hyper focused over it, and refused to let us take it out even though it was ready.

His face lit up with the idea of the Tooth Fairy coming to get his tooth though. In his words, “The Tooth Fairy will bring me something special.” This line was almost on a loop. You see, Autism and a new discovery can be a gift or quite possibly the most exhausting aspect of ones day.

We have had a bunch of conversations about the Tooth Fairy. Such as when she or he will come? Why it’s a he or she? What will he or she bring? Where will my tooth come out? Will it be scary? You name the question, Sawyer has asked it! Even Alex Trebek from Jeopardy would turn off Sawyer’s buzzer!

Two weeks down and Sawyer and I are out walking Oscar. Here is a snippet of our conversation as we walked back home.

“Daddy, I lost my tooth at school,” said Sawyer.

“Sawyer, let me see,”I yelled!

“No, I will show you when we get home. I will show you then Mommy. After that, the Tooth Fairy will bring me something special, he said.

So there we have it, my rut in writing was saved. The Tooth Fairy has come to the 603 and made me excited about the present rather than always reaching into the past.