A pretty self-explanatory phrase; there is no end point to the sense of loss, but there are ups, downs, moments of prominence, contradictions. P, my AS son, appears enough like other kids for the most part that the world around the family fails to see the problems, and encourages everyone to focus on the strengths, leaving his parents sometimes feeling quite bewildered and uncertain of themselves. Then, without warning, you are hit hard, knocked flat, by a most unmerciful sense of certainty.
I had to take P to a special out-of-school activity this morning, along with 2 other girls from his class. It's a short course available to certain children who are considered to be talented in the area being taught; what parent in their right mind could find a problem here? But from the beginning, P struggled in unpredictable ways. The staff were great, and I felt proud of him, as well as satisfied that he had managed the whole experience enough to engage somewhat with the course.
I turned up to drive the group to the venue for the final session. Traffic was heavy and the 5-minute drive turned into 15. No hardship there; it prolonged my glorious conversation with 2 lovely little girls about everything from Enid Blyton to Gangam Style. Whilst enjoying the interaction for what it was, I was simultaneously modelling for P, as well as working to provide opportunities him to engage as well. His responses were minimal and generally unenthusiastic.
We got out of the car and they all went about their business while waiting for the doors to open; I hung around till they went inside. P to his credit lined up with the boys playing 4-square and got a turn, but it was such a fragile-looking success, it was hard to watch. I kind of imploded. I realised that I am utterly, utterly starved of so much that should be taken for granted; emotionally, life with a little AS boy is so austere. So much of myself is on hold, so much that I wish for from him is not forthcoming. There was nothing conscious, nothing analytical about any of this: the emotions just tumbled, tumbled out without me understanding or having any control. The tears started to roll.
And that, for the uninitiated, is non-finite grief.
