That Time of Year Again

June is a wonderful time of year, due much in part to the graduations and other measures of accomplishment that happen for school students. Over the years, this time of year has typically aroused feelings of grief and sadness for me (read on). The post (after the jump) is actually a reprint from a post I made on my other blog 3 years ago (to the day, I just realized). So, again, I share a little of what my heart feels at these times.




--- Originally posted June 8, 2008 ---


Anyone who has lost anything important (which is probably 99.9% of the human race) knows the grief that comes with that loss. Even long after the initial loss and grieving process, certain events and reminders can trigger the pain all over again.

At the end of December, 1993, our first child, Erin, was born. We knew beforehand that she would be born with Down Syndrome, and so even before she arrived in our arms, we had already started to work through some of the grief that came along with that. For every parent who has a "special child", that grief comes from the loss of much of what you had hoped the child would be and could become. Erin's arrival changed our lives in many other ways, other things that we had to give up (willingly or unwillingly), that in turn compounded grief upon grief. At the same time, we wanted to remember that this life was a gift from God, and in the midst of processing the grief, we chose to celebrate, and invited others to celebrate with us the joy of being new parents. Indeed, over the past 14 years, it is the celebration of Erin's life and what she is that has eased the pain of what she is not. However, like a bad weed that can never be fully eradicated, that pain surfaces from time to time, threatening to further excoriate the wound.

This past week was just such a time for me. The international school that our younger two children attend closed off the academic year this past week. On the second last day of school, the middle school held a special event for all those who are "graduating" from Grade 8 and will be going into high school this fall. As I was leading Erin out of the grade 2 art class that she participates in, I saw all the grade 8 gals dressed in their best, make-up on, and prepared for the event. Proud parents were there taking pictures. It suddenly hit me - this would be the class Erin would be in! If she didn't have Down Syndrome, she would be dressed up and having her picture taken with the rest of her classmates. If she didn't have Down Syndrome, my wife and I would be there with the other parents of all the grade 8 students, laughing and celebrating with them in our children's accomplishments. If Erin didn't have Down Syndrome, she could be building the memories of partying with her friends at this special time. If Erin didn't have Down Syndrome......!

The grief lasted for a few days, and then subsided. Till today. I was looking at an album of a facebook friend from the school, and saw the pictures of the grade 8 class. The boys, the girls, and then the whole class together. The pictures were beautiful, but all I could see was that Erin wasn't in them. And so I go through one more cycle of grief.....

I am sincerely happy for all our friends who have children in the Morrison middle school graduating class this year. We celebrate with them in the accomplishments of their kids, and we hope and pray for the best for each of them. At the same time, I choose to once again, celebrate in Erin's life. It is a very different life, but it is also a life of joy, sometimes mixed with pain. As is every life. In the meantime, I ride out the alternating waves of grief and gratitude, knowing that in a special way, because of Erin, this will forever be a part of my life.