This morning while driving I realized I was behind a van, one of those tall white ones, that transport either school kids with disabilities, or adults in day programs. The rearmost seat showed a hatted head, with gray hair sticking out underneath so I knew it was an adult van. Then I thought of Nat, of course. I remembered immediately that he would be at work this morning, in the supermarket parking lot gathering shopping carts. Small stab of pain in my chest, just the tiniest drop of sadness gathering there. Not because he is a person who has that kind of allegedly menial job. But because I wondered if he was cold. And that I had forgotten about him for the morning, until this moment.<\/p>\n
The two thoughts merged while I waited for the left turn signal. The van in front of me became a blur as I remembered the actions I’d taken the other day, to protect Nat from being cold. I had heard from the day program that he was coming in without hat and gloves, and was wearing low socks. Right away I had talked to his caregiver John, whom I love, and who loves Nat dearly, and we’d figured out together what to do. John had then spoken to the day program, agreed about the socks, and then the day program director — also a good guy — pointed out in turn that he’d discovered Nat’s missing hat and gloves in someone else’s locker there. Problem solved.<\/p>\n
It’s not often that easy. I often have trouble figuring out what Nat’s doing when during his week and it is no one’s fault. It’s just that he is involved with many people during his days. There are many parts to the Nat machine and keeping them all well-oiled and operative is still my job — even though I am no mechanic. I’m much better at the softer skills, the things I can see and touch, particularly when he is home with us on the weekends. I can look around the kitchen and see he has not yet eaten. Then the problem is to get him to initiate wanting to eat. That is a piece that flies away from me whenever I come near it, like a startled bird. You can never really catch those birds. I don’t know if I will ever get Nat to consistently ask for what he needs, let alone just take it. I am the proponent of “With autism, never say never.” And I’m not saying “never,” but I am seeing initiation for Nat with a big sigh blocking it. And I’m just as much an obstacle, because I love mothering in certain ways, and jumping to make a fun meal for him is one of my favorites. So the Goals and I seem to be at cross purposes.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I feel that Nat and his adulthood, and I are at cross purposes, actually. I’m supposed to let him go, and be in the world independently, with the help of others and only sometimes me. But how in the world does one pace this type of thing? And yet it is happening, because I had indeed forgotten about him until I saw the van.<\/p>\n
All these thoughts were tumbling through as my vision blurred and the van was a shadow. I thought, I am at such a loss about this letting go thing, because I am torn between wanting him to be a successful adult and with wanting him to feel like he still has the love and protection of his mother. Many of you are shaking your heads, smiling wryly about how I hover, or how Nat is so grown up and I just can’t see it. But do you realize that it hurts — hurts — to think that he might indeed want me more in his life and then finds that I’m not!<\/p>\n
So there was that little pinch in my heart, that’s what it was. And then it kind of popped, like a blister, and became something else. For right there, next to those fast moving scurrying ant thoughts along came another memory, creamy and slow, like lotion in a bottle, almost run out: I realized I was at the very corner I’d been 24 years ago, where I was supposed to meet Ned and Nat (after my appointment nearby). And sure enough, Nat had materialized there, swaying atop Ned’s shoulders. Wobbily joyous. Then his face had lit up even more because he’d recognized me. There was that wide goofy baby smile. He was so glad to see me — but he had been happy without me, too.<\/p>\n
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