grief

19 March 2013

Saturday Moment: “Is THAT the Holy Child?!” The Pieces Fall into Place at Mass.

The Scene

Our church as it looked in January 2013

For many reasons going to Mass is a production for us (I documented some of our more memorable visits), and so we do not attend as regularly as I would like. The politics of the Vatican in recent years did little to stoke my religious fervor but we do make frequent trips to the empty church to say prayers for those we love, and in particular to remember the young friend my son lost to leukemia last year. The choice of Pope Francis I last week led us to venture to Mass this past Saturday afternoon, in honor of the forgiveness, renewal, and the promise of a fresh start his papacy and this Easter season may hold for all of us. It didn’t hurt that our boy, after a sigh, seemed willing to brave the crowd if it meant a chance to recall his friend. So off we went, arriving early so we could get a seat with a good view of the altar and the Blessed Sacrament.

We usually sit in the front section a few rows back. Hanging from the vaulted ceiling high over and in front of the altar is a massive crucifix with a fairly graphic representation of Christ. It has always been there, in that spot. There we sat, with my boy and his iPod open to a picture of his friend. He had used the paint app to put a yellow halo on his head, and he held it up high so that it faced the Blessed Sacrament. As I reached up to lower his arm gently he looked at me in alarm, pointing to the crucifix as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is THAT Jesus?!” he said in a stage whisper. I nodded, two fingers presses to my lips to remind him to speak quietly and to keep myself from smiling.

“Is THAT the Holy Child?!” Suddenly, the connection between Christmas and Easter began to forge in his mind.

“What HAPPENED?!” I told him we would talk about it later but the questions kept coming.

“Is he dead? Who killed him? See the blood?” He turned the iPod so his angel friend could see, too. That almost did me in.

Finally, in the car I did my best to tell him the full narrative, Christmas to Easter, promising him that we will go back during Holy Week and see the stations of the Cross that tell the entire story of the Crucifixion. He was wary, and raised his hand, palm toward me.

“I’m good.” Then he thought for a minute, playing something in his head. I mentioned that we have a movie at home that tells the story of Jesus.

“Wait! I get it!” And then he did a perfect imitation of the announcer’s voice on the preview from one of his Christmas videos:

“JESUS of NAZARETH!! That’s him!” It only took, like, fifteen years.

When we returned home he bounded up the stairs to say hello to his sister. She came downstairs, laughing.

On this visit in January he didn't even notice the crucifix.

At that point he didn’t even notice the crucifix.

“What happened? He came up to my room, jumped on my bed and said church was AWESOME. He never does that when he comes home from anything, ever.” I told her everything, and she went up to his room and hugged him. A while later he emerged and called down to me, standing at the railing where I could see him.

“Mom, does Jesus make our hearts happy?”

His smile, his voice, and the way he had his hands clasped over his heart told me it wasn’t really a question.

15 December 2012

Is it easier to blame Autism than Guns?

John 11:35 Jesus wept.

John 11:35 Jesus wept.

I don’t want to but I have to weigh in on the Sandy Hook tragedy. I doubt we will ever truly know everything that led that young man to do what he did, but I feel the need to reiterate what the Autism Society of America has already said: that mass murder is not a symptom or a behavior of autism. His brother mentioning autism in a description of the gunman doesn’t mean there is a causal relationship between what happened and the alleged diagnosis of autism, it only means – maybe – that he was a person who may have needed more support than he was getting. In today’s America, that could describe a whole lot of people, the vast majority of whom have not opened fire on anyone.

But I am appalled that the ability to do just that – open fire – on anyone, anywhere, is seen as a founding-fathers-given right to Americans. We have lost our understanding of what gun safety is and the value of a good background check – which in this case would have done little good, but that is not true of some other events in this year of seven (yes, seven) mass shootings. But limiting the number and type of weapons available to a single individual might have made a difference in the scope and horror of this event.

Don’t let the media – or anyone else – turn the tables on the real issue and blame a disability instead of political cowardice on the fronts of health insurance and gun safety. I join the chorus of voices calling for increased gun safety and a stronger mental health safety net for all Americans.

SONY DSC

16 September 2012

A Direct Line to Heaven

When our boy was small and we were still trying to figure out what was happening with him, I often said that he was a little closer to heaven and to hell than the rest of us. He was – and is – so much more in touch with his emotions than with the practical world and it magnifies both his joy and his pain in any given situation. As one can imagine, it is a gift and and a curse, but as a parent I place much more value on his gift for presenting vivid, unvarnished snapshots of the most fundamental joys and sorrows in life. This is never clearer than when there has been a death of someone close to him.

He recently lost a classmate to a short, intense battle with leukemia. It all happened while he was at camp, and this turn of events still dominates his re-entry into home and school. He has panic attacks most mornings at school, causing physical and behavioral distress, and we enlisted the help of the school adjustment counselor and the nurse to address his worries.

Earlier this week I met with his teacher and behaviorist who told me that his friend’s parents would be visiting the school to accept a big card that many students from the high school signed honoring their lost classmate.  Leading up to this, our boy was writing down his feelings in a letter to his friend JM and they showed it to me – it was phenomenal, full of apologies for being away while he was sick and a long list of people who miss him. He is really working things through with the counselor, which seems to be making a difference, because he appears to be having fewer the panic attacks. They said that he printed out a photo of JM and drew a gravesite on it. Sometimes he puts his hands on the picture and prays to him (which makes the adults in the classroom cry). When he came home from school that afternoon he sat with me and showed me a bracelet JM’s mother gave him with JM’s name and dates on it. He said that it was good to see his parents and to know that JM’s mom misses him too. I asked him if he cried. He said yes.

We went to the dump that same afternoon and on the way back we passed our church (we do not attend often – singing and crowds, you know) and I told him the church was empty and asked if he wanted to say a prayer for JM. He said yes.

We went in, and I reminded him about the presence of the Holy Spirit and about genuflecting and then helped him say a couple of prayers – he kneeled and held his hands in perfect position; so earnest. I asked if he wanted to go or stay and say some of his own prayers. He said stay. He told JM that he was sorry for missing his funeral and that he hopes he is happy in heaven. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head and put his hand over his heart and said very quietly,

“In peace. In peace. In peace. In peace.”

It was as transcendent as anything I have ever seen in church. He was quiet for awhile and then said he was ready to leave. I asked him he he felt any better. He said yes.

As we got in the car he said.

“Boy, I really can’t wait for Halloween.”

Why?

“So I can see JM’s ghost!!”

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.

“Was that a funny thing to say?”

I asked him if he thinks ghosts are real.

“Noooo. But I still can’t wait for Halloween.”

I asked him if he knows that I am totally in love with him.

He said yes.