November started with me plucking crayons like petals from a Ziploc bag, handing only one at a time to Tony, who colored an image of marigolds in short bursts while I talked to him about Dia de los Muertos. Coloring marigolds seemed more suited to our son’s current fine motor abilities than sugar skulls, which often display more intricate and tightly lined designs.
He watched me as I put pictures and treats for loved ones- some long gone- on our ofrenda. A small smile lifts his lips as his eyes, in a moment that is much more rare, connect to mine. He knows, because we have told him, that this is a newer tradition for us- one we celebrate since he joined our family because we would never try to erase (or prevent him access to) his rich cultural heritage.
The very next day I had to begin the painful process of helping Tony to understand why his beloved Miss Emily was applying for jobs elsewhere. Generally, turnover rate in habilitative therapy is quite high in Arizona because the pay can be shockingly low. We’ve been blessed to have her this long, and I am thankful to her for every second she has given us. And so woven into the daily schedule of therapy and infection control cleaning have been so many moments of shared mourning as I try and help him accept what is shortly coming to pass.
I tell our little man that he will be the King of the Changes, because the only routine he really can predict in life is that things will keep changing. Accepting change must be his new routine, as a continuing onslaught of pandemic related changes has unrelentingly continued to rip petals from our emotional stems and fling them into the raging wind of current events, where they continue fluttering away from us, only seen now in our memories.
I found small sheltered spaces in the joy of Hannah looking in the mirror, turning to me with a hug, and emphatically proclaiming “I love it!” after I cut her hair. In seeing the happy exuberance of playful moments between Tony and Andy while we were doing community safety together. My honey has needed to help me with some of the therapy targets on his days off because there are limitations to what I am allowed to do by myself when I am acting as a temporary direct care worker being funded by DDD. The necessity of abiding by these constraints has nearly doubled the amount of actual therapy work I have to do for Tony (which has definitely been hard on me) as I seek to protect his authorized hab hours for as long as I can in the hopes a replacement therapist can be found. Our son though has enjoyed having his papa along with us for these outings.
Having so many activities upended by our community’s high level of COVID spread brought an unexpected bright spot to me this past week, as Andy and I were able to cuddle up and watch Ballet Arizona’s latest offering digitally. I love being able to see performances in person when I can, but usually Andy has to stay home with our son, so it was a delicious thing to be able to view something current with him. And even better for me was that my honey actually enjoyed the performances. Usually ballet is something he puts up with because he loves me, and only because he loves me, and I am very grateful for that. <3
Pictures from November 7th, community safety (Tony getting tickles from his papa!) and my watching the ballet from home makeup.
The very next day I had to break yet even more difficult news to Tony: Miss Emily was given a job offer that payed so much more, and she had accepted it. Our little man said “uh-uh,” a wilder and pained look entering into his eyes. I have focused as many moments as I can on reminding him that Emily is still our friend, and we will still be seeing her in the future, even though working with us will no longer be her job. Some moments that comforts him, others I’m pretty sure he’d like to find a way to get her adopted into the family also. He agreed with a smile earlier this week that he was delaying returning home from community safety with us in the hopes that it would keep her from having to leave. But leave she must, and now we are only one week away from her last day.
Life is full of poignant moments, pulling subtle tones of contentment and peace, or vibrant hues of grief and joy from the fibers of our hearts, layering and sowing them into the current events ground around us where they bloom as they are. Sometimes the hardest task is in finding a way to be thankful even when the sadness wants to overwhelm the picture we are looking at. I have certainly spent plenty of moments watering those current events with tears this past week. But as I look at all of the moments surrounding me, I can still see a richness of happy moments and much to be thankful for.
I am going to close out with a link to an article I read today on NPR that I loved, “ ‘Brighten The Corner Where You Are’: Finding A New Way To Be Thankful In A Pandemic,” by Jey Born.
