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 Sean went from being happy and excited to graduate a couple of months ago, to being withdrawn and irritable about the event to come.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]