I wrote a post last year about grieving the possibilities. The danger that comes with getting your hopes too high, just to be ruthlessly crushed by reality. Grieving things that will never happen. Tonight, I was cut by the other edge of that wickedly sharp sword.
Transitioning to adulthood.
Vocational training programs.
I wanted so desperately to hear that this could be a possibility for Alex. I want to hear that there is a possibility that Alex can do a job he likes. I need to know that there is a possibility that he could have a life beyond the four walls of our home.
At the same time, I want to beg for mercy.
Please, don't tell me this. Don't tell me about the success stories. The low functioning kids who have gone on to do more than was ever expected. Don't tell me not to give up, to take it one day at a time, because no one knows what the future will bring. Don't tell me that he may be in this place now but by the time he's 15 or 18 or 20 he could be doing great things.
Don't tell me that someday he could write eloquent messages, or even use an ipad. Don't tell me that someday he could fill baggies and affix labels, don't tell me that someday he may be able to feed paper through a machine or work a shredder. Don't tell me that someday he could work in a workshop or a nursing home or hold simple conversations or go to the bathroom on his own.
Please, don't tell me to hope in the possibilities because the possibilities are a lie.
I would rather have no hope than false hope.
I would rather celebrate who his is today and what he has accomplished so far and be happy in what this day brings than to dare dream of tomorrow.
I just got here. I just learned to be ok with the here and now. Please, don't take that away from me by telling me that someday is possible.