to give the gift of saying thank you
We lost our Aunt Kay this month.
She reached out to me at age 13, when my mother died and gave me quality time. We would often talk about what it takes to be in charge of your own life. When I got sick, Aunt Kay spent several summers giving my daughter Brittany, what I could not and I am sure they had many similar conversations.
During a recent trip back home, we all spent an afternoon together and I was able to explain to her how her gift of time and love had become a part of who I am. Even though I am saddened and will dearly miss her, I am not agonized by the pain of unsaid words. My heart is peaceful knowing that she knows.
After my appointment I felt good, had some energy and just wasn’t ready to go home. Truthfully, I was longing for some company and didn’t want to face an empty house. I couldn’t think of any errands to do so I lollygagged around the grocery store, then sadly headed for home.
Driving up the steep hill to my driveway it hit me. I had planned a lunch date and all that time I was moping around, she was waiting for me to call so we could go out to lunch.
Bullying – misbehavior comes from someone who needs to be taught
To an angry, tearful mother whose autistic child was being bullied: Rise above and tuck your pain back in your heart to be soothed by those that love you. Defensiveness doesn’t belong here.
Native tradition remind us that misbehavior comes from someone who needs to be taught. Parenthood has already brought you strength and courage. Craft your words. Educate, and you will develop the skill to tactfully and boldly make the world a better place.
As you get better at this, you will actually look forward to these encounters as your child’s differences bring opportunities for you to soften hearts and lessen the cruelties of this harsh world.
It’s not my fault I don’t always remember your name, though we’ve been friends for years.
It’s not my fault I sometimes do things that appear foolish.
It’s not my fault I forget plans we talked about yesterday.
It’s not my fault
but it sure feels like it sometimes.
That’s the chemo brain shame.