Yesterday hubby and I were out and about with RJC and stopped for something to eat. While we were sitting down waiting, we heard a noise. It was somewhat familiar. Not exactly words, not exactly yelling. More of a "Hey, I'm here" sort of noise. It took less than a minute to find the source. A young adult man, probably in his 30s (would be my best guess) with special needs.
First let me explain that I was very aware of the fact that I shouldn't gape. I hate when people stare at my family as every bit of my insecurity comes out then. This family was in front of me, a bit to the side, and there was a fair distance between us. The only person directly facing me was the older man who was in deep conversation with a different younger man. I couldn't help but to occasionally look up and at some point I started to wonder - will that be us in ten or fifteen years? I was not watching because I was disgusted, annoyed, or afraid. I was drawn to them as though somebody was holding up a mirror in front of me and I had the opportunity to possibly see my future. Had they ever looked my way they would have received a smile and nod - and I know they would have seen my gal and understood.
Let me try to share what I saw.
At the head of the table sat the father, probably later 60s, maybe a bit older. His son with special needs was next to him. Next came his mom, generally same age as his dad, and next to her was a young gal - perhaps in the 9,10 range. Across from the young gal was a younger gal - 6,7 range. I assumed they are the older couple's grandchildren. Next to her is the mom of these two gals, who appeared to be the daughter-in-law of the older couple, and next to her was another man, who appeared to be her husband - also a son of the older couple and thus, this young man's brother. He also seemed to be in his 30s and I couldn't figure out which sibling was older.
The dad and the brother were in a very serious conversation. In my imagination I thought that perhaps the younger man was getting some kind of advice from the older man...or vice versa. Either way, their attention was on one another. The man with special needs was making his noises and gesturing with one hand, while the other hand had a tight hold around his mom's neck. She was leaning in toward him - probably not voluntarily but as a result of his hold. He would pull her hard toward him and she continued smiling and having a conversation with the younger woman across the way and the two children.
Mostly my eyes were on the woman. I watched as she never showed an ounce of impatience or even acknowledged that it was possible that she was uncomfortable. Instead, she was smiling, nodding and listening to the younger children share whatever was on their mind and it appeared that there was no distracting her from the younger ones. At one point the young man let go of mom's neck, leaned over and grabbed at the younger girl, hitting her in the head. Her grandma immediately smiled and said something that was reassuring, and the young gal took it in stride. I wondered what her grandma said. Maybe something like "Oh, he must really like you to do that!" or "That's what he does when he's happy!" I also imagine the young gal had seen this behavior before as she was not at all flustered. The older man seemed to instinctively realize that something had happened, stopped his conversation with the brother for a quick moment, leaned over and said something (couldn't tell if he was talking to the young man or the mom) then quickly went back to giving his son his attention. It all happened in literally seconds.
I realized then that they had a rhythm. It is the same rhythm we seem to instinctually fall into when we are in a public setting. It is the rhythm that allows us to go out and about in the community. It is the rhythm that has been developed over many years. It's the rhythm that helps us know our roles and exactly what we each need to do in order to have a better chance at a successful outing.
Much like this mom who I was watching, I am the one sitting next to RJC when we are out and about. I hold conversation with others while holding RJC's hand if it is necessary, sometimes bouncing our hands up and down, responding to her endless, repetitive scripted questions and comments, while simultaneously listening and responding to whomever else is talking. I am aware when she has a knife in her hand (is it a safe butter knife or a sharp steak knife), when she is pouring water (we all prefer not to get drenched) and when her volume is starting to get loud. I notice if children around us seem scared or uncomfortable or simply curious. I notice when adults around us seem angry or uncomfortable or perhaps understanding. I take it all in, but I go on with our meal because, well, this is just US. It's our family, we are who we are, and we cannot break our rhythm or chaos will ensue. This I know.
At some point while I was not paying attention, they had left. I bet that it was his mom who said her goodbyes quicker than she would have liked, who took her son by the arm to be sure he got to the car safely. I bet it was his dad who hugged his other son, his daughter-in-law and grandchildren and maybe walked with them to the car but knew he needed to quickly get back to his wife and son. I wondered if their son still lived with them at home or if he was in a residential setting. I wondered if the mom ever stopped being tired, if the dad ever stopped planning for their future and trying to figure out how to keep their boy safe and happy. I wondered at what point in their lives would they feel relaxed, feel like they could have just time for the two of them - when their bodies, mind and soul were only focused on one another.
Then I thought about how much obvious love and strength there was at that table. The lucky young gals who learned from a young age that people are different but not less important, who should be valued and not feared. How lucky the brother and sister-in-law were to have this young man in their lives to enrich their relationship and give them the opportunity to practice and role model kindness and acceptance. How lucky the parents were to have this life experience and to know full well that some things are not to be explained or understood.
I also thought about the fact that some days those parents, the brother and his family, may have wished things were different - not because they loved their child less but because they were human.
I couldn't stop thinking about this family. For whatever reason they had touched my heart. I thought about this young man and how he was so obviously loved, cared for, and an integral part of this family's specific rhythm.
Then I took a deep breath, looked at my beautiful girl and my amazing husband, and we went home to our own rhythm.
