Saying Good-Bye

Telling my children I am going somewhere is never easy. They know when a suitcase is involved that I will be away at bedtime, which is when they seem to need me most. On Monday, I waited until the very last minute to tell them I was going to Kentucky for a couple of days. Ian took the news fairly well; Ainsley was very sad. She didn't cry, but when I told her why I was leaving, she seemed more concerned about me than about how much she would miss me.

I have two aunts, and I love them both dearly. One of them died on Sunday. Explaining this to Ian and Ainsley took careful consideration of my words.

"Was she old?" Well, to them perhaps she was; but not to me.

"Was she sick?" Yes, she battled a very aggressive form of cancer with tremendous courage and strength. She outlived her own mother by twenty years and three days. To her, that was a victory.

"Are you sad, Mommy?" Yes, dear ones, I am very sad. When I was a child, she was loving yet firm. She didn't hesitate to discipline me if I misbehaved, and she was lavish with praise for the things I did well. In my adult years, she became my friend. She was there to listen when I was learning to deal with autism in my babies. She offered her knowledge as a nurse and a fellow sufferer when I was diagnosed with the ailments so common in the women in our family. She loved me as her own, and I will miss her.

My children have not experienced a tremendous loss yet in their lives. By the time I was Ian's age, I had been through the deaths of both of my grandfathers, one grandmother, and two great-grandfathers, each loss leaving its mark on me in a different way. As I get older and I understand the losses, the grief I feel is more profound. Yet, behind the pain there is also joy from the wonderful memories I have. Teaching my children how to see past the hurt is something I do not know how to do. I think I just "got it" myself in the last few years.

Last night the kids selected some of their old toys to give away to charity. I offered to sell them on Ebay so they could earn some money; but they chose to donate them to children in need. I am so proud of them. When Ian discovered that Ainsley had (at my suggestion) put the old Barney doll in the pile, he began to cry. Barney was his favorite comfort toy as a baby and toddler, and he was not ready to say good-bye yet. The purple dinosaur had soothed him to sleep in his earliest months, and this is a memory for Ian that gives him peace.

I wasn't ready to say good-bye to my aunt. But I have gained strength by being with my cousins and uncle in her home where so many things remind me of her. Now that I am back in my own house, I feel a little lost. I know it will get better in time.

Aunt Mary was an avid reader of my blog, even in her last weeks when she was tired and very ill. We were connected by the words, photos and stories of family. She would not have wanted me to restrict access to this information because it has the potential to help so many. I have decided that is more important than the chance that someone might choose to use this information for harm. Now, when I write to all of you, I'll have her on my mind, pushing me to do whatever I can to bring knowledge and understanding to those who are struggling with autism in their lives.