Saying goodbye

For over a year and a half we have had a wonderful woman in our lives.  She has come to our home once a week, three times a month. . . . She is Parky's Special "teacher." 

At our house we call her his therapist. . . .She has worked with him on motor skills, both fine and gross, She has helped him with problem solving, letters, shapes, colors and more. But the thing she has done the best is make him feel special, smart and important. 

Parklen doesn't get a whole lot of social interaction. . .mostly because he cant.  Other kids are sick, or he is.  He doesn't go to pre-school like his brother, barely even gets to go to church.  But Bre would come, she would come to play,  with just him.  She wasn't there to poke him with needles, to check his heart, to look in his ears, to give him medicine. . . She was just there to play. 

Parklen has stood at the window each week watching as she comes down the road. . .once he spots her he runs to hide so that he can scare her.  Every week was just the same..

In the time that we have had her coming to our home, Bre has taught him so much.  When she first began her visits Parky couldn't really speak, didn't interact much, could barely walk or stand.  Today he is doing it all. The combination of the visits with a bit of older brother teaching have brought Parky above and beyond where he should be.

A couple months ago they began testing to see if he could qualify for more time.  The testing is standard, there are no exceptions. . . .he didn't qualify.  When you read this you may think how wonderful it is that he no longer needs the help.  But, the thing is, he does.    He needs the presence of another person to teach him, to love him and to give him that time.  When he gets sick, he falls behind.  And at the end of the day he still has a disease. . .one that doesn't disappear. One that requires me to keep him away from a lot.

As I sat at a table with the therapists who did his testing I could barely hold in the tears.  All of us knew, knew that this was the wrong thing. Knew that he should still get the sessions, but we also knew there was nothing that could be done. . . The test is the test. . . There is only one.  I thought about not signing the paper work to dismiss the services.  Maybe that would help, no, it wouldn't have.

Most days its just us two, I have to be careful where I take him, I have to watch out for germs. .  .I have to cancel a million things because he isn't feeling well. 

Today was our last day with our special friend.  Although my eyes were filled with tears, Parky played the same as he always does.  He didn't seem to notice that Bre only did the games that he asked for, that she didn't challenge him with things that are a bit harder, that she just looked at him a lot.  He didn't notice that I was so sad.   While we watched her drive down the road and out of our sight, Parky said "don't cry mommy, you will see Bre next week."  But we wont. . . .its probably better that he doesn't understand. 

I am thankful for the time we had, for the relationship he was able to build with someone so special.  Thankful for the regular visits from her. . .thankful for my time with another adult. . . .And thankful that other children get someone like Bre to teach them.