Joanne Carey Haid
I met G ( little Garrett as I was introduced to him) when dating my now husband, Kerry’s cousin. It was three years into our relationship that I was volunteered to host Thanksgiving Dinner that year. I was thrilled to cook a big dinner for the family, as I not only loved to cook but I loved to set the table, decorate and play hostess – you were speaking my love language. Preparations began as menus and recipes were thoroughly gone over. All the details- flowers and table settings, color choices, paper or cloth napkins -you name it- I don’t take a task like this lightly. I like to cross my t’s and dot my i’s when it comes to dinner party throwing. It was cool to me long before it became cool.
That Thanksgiving, the whole family descended upon the house and Thanksgiving exploded everywhere, literally and figuratively. The chatter and laughter filled the house, glasses clinked, stories were retold and retold again. It was energizing and exhausting at the same time.
But more than anything it has been etched in my mind and saved in my heart because of Little Garrett- that’s right, G will also be Little G to me.
G was little. He showed up quite dapper in his suit with an engaging smile on his face, handed me something then was off with his cousins as they did whatever they were doing- my heart was full. Thanksgiving was alive and well around me.
As we were cleaning up and putting dishes and glasses away, I heard this quiet voice behind me bend down and faintly said, “Can I help you? I didn’t have a chance to properly say hello to you.” In that moment, my heart melted. I can still see that scene vividly play out in my mind. I see it now and I see it whenever anyone mentions G’s name. I see it whenever I see him. That exchange was so sweet and kind, so pure, thoughtful and genuine all rolled up into one. Perhaps it was G’s sensitivity to my end of the night fatigue or maybe it was just his natural demeanor. Whatever it was, I thought what a great kid. There was something in that moment as we quietly stacked cups and saucers together that made me feel it was a gift. To the outside observer, it looked like two people cleaning up but to me, I felt like I saw a little boy who had love rolled up inside of him and needed in that moment to express it in the midst of all the frenzy.
Thanksgiving cups and saucers hold that memory for me.
A child with special needs is a life long journey, not only for the child but for everyone in their life. Instead of a manual it comes with a whole host of ups and downs and challenges that get big and bigger. That is true for G’s family. Yet, each time there is a hurdle to mount be assured a success is soon to follow. And each time I go back to the memory of that one Thanksgiving evening where I shared a moment with a beautiful, loving boy. That’s who G is and always is to me.
I spent several years teaching special needs children, they were some of my favorite classes of the week. Despite having planned my classes I never knew what to expect and had to remain incredibly flexible to the day’s outcomes. Good days brought huge successes to my students and days where struggles and frustrations were the norm brought sadness and tears.
Each new day starting again- always a fresh start. Understanding and compassion must go further and deeper. Patience is stretched to the outer limits. But, when you look deep inside someone’s eyes who is struggling and see the longing to succeed you brush yourself off and start again, and again and again.
Special Needs is not for the faint of heart. I believe special needs children are the gift that keeps on giving even when it seems there is nothing left to give. Those living with special needs in any capacity need hope for a future, a future of acceptance, compassion and love. I often told my students and their parents to embrace the word ‘special’. “Who wants to be ‘typical,’” I would giggle. “Boring!” And we would all have a good laugh. That is not to ever imply to ignore the enormity of the challenges and frustrations and pain that families are faced with. Nor is it to suggest to not fight for representation or rights, but rather just a pause, a moment, an exhale to bring us back to those moments we savor and delight in, the ones etched in our memories like I have for G, where we see a person across from us filled with dreams, hope and love, they are just a little different from our own.
A site like Horizons to Hope is a wonderful resource for parents who are emotionally and cognitively spent and struggling to find the resources and programs their children need to reach their fullest potential.
Happy Thanksgiving, Little Garrett, I mean G.
Joanne
