In my last update I posted here about Sean, I had said that things are
hard right now. We've been trying to keep our heads up out of water
while being sucked down into a great whirlpool which is the world of
Sean. So how is it in the "world of Sean" today? Even with all he's
accomplished, all the support and services, and a little white ferret
with a name meaning light ... it's not as good as we once predicted.
However, it's far better than it was the last time that I posted here.
But his situation is still volatile. We still hold our breath in
anticipation of the big day our family has always dreamed of. Sean's
graduation. I tend to watch the clock a lot. Hour by hour. Hoping it
will speed up so we could arrive safely at the big day before yet
something else happens. And now, the day is arriving very soon ...
May 15th. And it now seems very certain that Sean will be walking
down that isle in his cap and gown.

There has been a sudden turn around regarding Sean's attitude about
the ceremony with the coming of this day. Sean went from being happy
and excited to graduate a couple of months ago, to being withdrawn and
irritable about the event to come. He has skipped out on some of the
senior celebrations. He says he just wants to "get the hell out of that
school" now. I sat with him the other day. To tell him how proud I was.
How proud everyone was. How much we appreciated his efforts and how
they are now paying off in spades. I told him that even if he wasn't
excited about the ceremony, a great many family members and friends
are. I told him he could never begin to contemplate the importance of
this day in his life. And I asked him to try and remember that we are
all here with him through this. Through not just this day, but also
there after into adulthood. True to form he didn't give me much eye
contact and left the room. He can't figure out what is going on with
himself. I can tell you what however. To say that autistics have
trouble transitioning is a gross understatement. Every little
graduation up until now has not been a happy one for Sean. Even with us
working to tell him that if he so wants it, there will be no changes
in his life other than not attending school ... and even then we can
fix that. But it makes no difference. This past weekend, he left work
suddenly and wanted to be with us. It was prom night, yet another
senior event he backed out of at the last minute. It was hard for me to
watch the other kids walking around the city in their gowns and tux's.
That is when it dawned on me. This accomplishment and celebration is
not just Sean's. It belongs to many of us. And there is no reason to
not whoop it up and enjoy it all. And so I made the choice to be
jubilant about it from here on out!

So I've accepted that there is a possibility of us spending much of
graduation day alone so to speak. Even if Sean does choose to hang out
with us before or opts to go out to dinner with us to celebrate
afterwards, he may not be all there so to speak. We might have a silent
little boy with a face of stone with us that day. We just don't know.
And until then, he won't talk much about it. Nothing will "fix" this.
He's on medicine, under the care of doctors, has a very caring and
involved case worker at school, an adult autism center with counseling
and activities at his disposal if he so wishes to use it, and an
Italian-Irish family spread across the states to talk to via phone.
Believe me, everything has been exhausted. And we are left with what we
have and that's fine. Despite what it sounds like, compared to what was
happening a few months ago things are great. And we are celebrating.

Tonight he is snuggling with Pharos. I hope he snuggles Pharos a "lot"
more in the days to come. Ferrets ground him. And they change his whole
personality when they are around.

Sean looses track of reality very easily nowadays. And I'm thinking
that possibly if he is reminded gently from people other than close
friends and family that this special day is coming, that it's happy,
and not necessarily the end of anything major or the beginning of some
strange new life ... he might feel more in touch with what is going on
and who knows, maybe even embrace it. So, I'm inviting you to send Sean
a card. Just a hello, nothing big. A card is someone's thoughts made
tangible ... something an autistic person can relate to.

And in case you are in town that day and want to volunteer to hold the
bucket that will be catching all of my tears, the ceremony will be held
at The Memorial Auditorium, in Chattanooga TN at 5:30pm. We'd love to
further celebrate in our home with little furry faces about ...
especially a special one, named Pharos.

[Posted in FML 6687]