As February draws to a close, I am reminded that Brian’s final days in special education are going very quickly, whether I want them to or not. On the one hand, I am very excited that Brian will start attending a wonderful adult day program in July. The weight of the world literally fell off my shoulders when I received the acceptance phone call a couple of weeks ago- what a feeling of elation with simultaneous relief! I didn’t realize just how stressed I was really feeling until I hung up the phone and then a flood of emotions hit me like a tidal wave: joy, fear, and profound sadness. It’s been a lot to untangle over the past several days as I try to process why I am still feeling conflicted and what all of this means going forward…

Brian’s life for the past 18 years in special education has been synonymous with living in a cocoon. It’s been predictable and comforting in many ways, with its routines of school, teachers, therapists and the school bus. There have been wonderful school experiences over the years, as well as less than stellar ones. The highs have been higher and the lows have definitely been lower. There are educators, personal aides and therapists who have made an indelible mark on Brian’s progress and in his life and we are eternally grateful for these wonderful individuals. Some have even become life long friends- one of the blessings of having a child with special needs.

Conversely, there have also been professionals who did not understand our son, nor cared to, along with bad bus experiences and years when progress seemed elusive, despite our best efforts. Those times definitely hurt, often leaving unanswered questions, but an inner resolve was ultimately cultivated . We inevitably chose to learn from each negative experience Brian had , seeking ways to make things better, learn from our mistakes, then slowly move forward, once the dust settled. Despite the ups and downs of special education, there has always been a familiarity, a comfort and predictability of the school day, aka, “the cocoon”. In June , Brian, like the graduates before him and the students that will follow, will be leaving the cocoon. He will be transformed into a butterfly after 18 years , using his wings for the first time to fly into the unknown and scary adult disabled world. I don’t like to think about this too much- I want Brian to remain in the cocoon!

Even though I knew this major transition was going to happen “some day”, you never think that “some day” actually will arrive! But here we are on the cusp of “ some day”, the final 70 days of school… Isn’t it funny how we parents can have just as much difficulty with transitions as our kids? And it’s definitely moments like these that remind me just how much our children are like us, rather than not, despite their disabilities. So, what to do? How does a special needs parent navigate this range of emotions that accompany such a major life change? I say with copious amounts of tears, hope and grace- past experience has shown me these things are necessary for a successful transition. No stone can be left unturned during this journey and no emotion can be ignored..

I have been shedding tears already- can you imagine what it will be like on graduation day?! Graduation is certainly a milestone achievement – a happy occasion that celebrates our special children’s successes, but it’s also a stark reminder of what they are about to lose and this cannot be discounted. A loss of the school day routine, the teachers, therapists, aides, school bus personnel, etc. will be difficult.. Life as our kids have known it for so long is about to change and they have no idea what is about to happen, at least my son doesn’t. Many of our special children are so literal, that it’s not until the day they actually go to their adult program for the first time or realize the bus is no longer coming to pick them up that they then realize their world has been turned upside down.

I expect Brian will have major transition challenges this Summer when he starts his new program- it’s inevitable. But I am hopeful that with time, he will eventually settle into his new adult life, despite its unfamiliarity and the things that he will greatly miss from school. With maturity and experience, Brian has demonstrated in the past that when given lots of time and repetition in a new situation, he can be successful, so that is our prayer once again. Hope continues to be one of my motivators for getting up each morning, as it has been since the day Brian was born. Hope for the best this Summer. Hope springs eternal. Hope that everything will ultimately be OK and work out according to exactly how it’s meant to be. And truthfully, it always has for Brian over the years, despite my doubts and fears, and regardless of the circumstances. There is no reason not to continue to have hope, even in this season of uncertainty and in the depths of my emotions that may tell me otherwise.

“Amazing Grace” is a gift that I will need to give Brian upon graduation this June, as well as myself. It’s the favor and mercy that comes from God, but it’s also what we can give to one another, especially during times of trial and transition. I know that I will need a LOT of grace during this time of change and I know Brian will also. This new chapter will indeed be one of trial and error, I’m sure, but I am hopeful that grace will sustain us enough to get us through the difficulties, whatever they may be.

In the meantime, there is also anticipation and excitement in this next chapter of Brian’s life, the flip side of the “tears and fears”. What new things will he learn going forward? Who will he meet? Where will he go? How will his life be further enriched? As I ponder these many things, I realize that there is just as much to look forward to for Brian, as there is to be concerned about: I can’t control how the wind blows, but I can adjust the sails. Oh, the places you will go, my son! And the places you have already been to along your life journey: some destinations you would understandably never choose to visit again, while others you would remain in forever if you could. We don’t know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future…God will make a way, as He has always done in your precious life.. He will continue to be faithful and guide you, Brian, as you charter new waters in July. Dad and I are so proud of you, our Beautiful Boy, oh, the places you will go! 😘😘❤️❤️