And out he has walked.
Printing resumes, collecting his personal items, eats the dinner he refused to eat with us, picks up the things packed at the doors and out he walks.
My little boy, my hopes, my dreams. It’s so hard as a parent, not to place all your dreams on your normal child. You suppress them deep inside you because you don’t want them to feel the pressure. For them to be all they can be, because you know your child with disabilities cannot reach those achievements.
You navigate through self-help books, opinions, magazine articles, parenting workshops and lectures, wondering each step of the way if you have made the right decisions or the wrong ones or more importantly did you have time to fix the wrong ones.
And out the door he walks, but not before I could convey the most important message.
“I love you”, I say, as he one arm hugs me. No words in return.