Learning to Let Go…Again

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Dinners at our home for those we love and care about have become a norm for us.  We have been truly blessed with caring neighbors, family friends and also special teens from the Friendship Circle who grow up to become thoughtful caring adults who will change the world.  All of those who come to our home are like family.

This morning, over my cup of coffee and quiet time before Jim and Jeffrey and Oakland are up and I have the family room all to myself, I envision a dinner in the future.  This one for those who have loved Jeffrey at his school, Morgan Autism Center.  But it’s a bittersweet dinner, though, because we are thanking them and saying goodbye for now.

Hard as both they and we have tried, we can’t find a way for Jeffrey to succeed at his school.  He thrived there for eight years, and our dear MAC was a place of respite for Jeffrey and us — a home where he was loved, grew and contributed.  Today it is a place that is still full of love but also signs of where Jeffrey’s torpedo destruction has taken place — the “barn” stripped of its lights, memories of an iron BBQ turned on its side, glasses pulled from the faces of caring staff.  All the medications in the world aren’t helping us consistently get the sweet, Curious Jeffrey to thrive there …at least for now.

So as I come to accept that Jeffrey might need to move on from this beloved place, I break down with emotion.  I realize I have to let go and not hold on too tightly.  Is it different from letting go when our now 24 year-old-daughter left for college?  In some ways no.  She too had outgrown her high school, and by senior year was aching to find a place where she was challenged even more.  And I imagine she felt that way about home too — she hasn’t even slept here for one night since graduation.  Still, she is closer to us than ever before, as we felt when we were visiting her in ‘her’ city….SF and taking pictures of her with Jeffrey for our upcoming Valentine’s Day annual card.

It is different.  I am truly scared about what’s next for Jeffrey.  I do take one day at a time, so I don’t worry about the future, but it is still a black abyss. We don’t yet see the light of what is possible.  There are some sparks of hope, so I focus on those and see how to make them grow.

So I breathe, focus on the today, on the joys I do have with Jeffrey as he is today and where he is today.   I hold him in my heart and MAC as well.  Perhaps they will start taking parallel paths soon, and one day re-intersect when Jeffrey is stronger with his emotional control and when the MAC environment is the right one for him again.  Or maybe a miracle will happen over the next few weeks and our paths will not need to diverge.

Time will tell.  I’m learning to let go all over again.