Poles Apart

I have two sons. I love them both immeasurably but they couldn’t be more unalike. They each have different qualities, skills, and very much their own individual personalities.

At almost 29years old, my eldest son James has a diagnosis of Wolf Hirschhorn syndrome. Added to that he has some complex health issues, autism, epilepsy, a severe learning disability and he is largely nonverbal. James has been dependant on his family, teachers and carers to look after him and meet all of his needs for the whole of his life. He has been dependant on me to advocate for him to ensure that he is treated fairly, that he is financially supported, that he receives the care and respect to which he is entitled and to make sure he has as many opportunities and as good a quality of life as possible. That will be my role for as long as I am able.

My youngest son is 25 years old. He is outgoing, confident, well educated and good mannered, he can adapt to any situation, he is a good communicator and can always find something to talk to people about. He holds down a good full-time job with considerable responsibility. He can organise his own life, manage his own finances, cook for himself, fend for himself and absolutely does not need me to speak for him (even though sometimes I want to)

This week we dropped him off at the airport

He was catching a flight alone to South Korea. For months he has been making plans to meet an Australian friend in Korea for a holiday. I know many young people travel alone, maybe at his age we didn’t have the same opportunities but I’m not sure I would have had the confidence he does even if we had. As I watched him stride purposefully into the airport my heart swelled with pride that we have raised this young man who is making the most of what life can offer him and I admire him immensely for doing that.

As I hugged him to say goodbye I had a familiar lump in my throat, the same one I have when I say goodbye to James when I leave him at his flat just a 25 minute drive from my home. That lump in my throat that comes out of nowhere, so suddenly it often catches me unaware. It doesn’t matter where your children are, how old they are or what their abilities are, the instinct is the same, to want to hold them close, to protect them and keep them safe, to shelter them from the harsh realities and injustices of this life we live. In truth, we can’t always do that, they have to live their life and whatever their circumstances we want it to be the best it can be so we swallow hard and we say our goodbyes.

It is not lost on me that I have one son who cannot step outside of his front door on his own and another who travels thousands of miles away alone. I am equally proud of them both and yet my two boys are quite literally poles apart.