I attended a basketball game at my
youngest sons charter school this evening. Part of the schools March
Madness celebration. I had managed to talk my Cody into joining Josiah
and I for the nights festivities. Upon entering the school Cody began
to show signs of feeling uncomfortable. It was his first visit back to
this school since he had graduated from the eighth grade last spring.
Feeling the need to encourage him I searched eagerly for teachers and
staff that would embrace seeing him again. Friendly faces approached
Cody only to happy to see him. Watching Cody I could still sense he was
very uncomfortable. Almost not responding at times.

I stepped back a minute and tried to imagine why he would feel so awkward toward
so many familiar faces. Then somehow, I saw what really was happening.
As those so happy to see him asked how he was, and how things were
going, it never entered my mind how those questions would make Cody
feel.

Just a week ago his world was given a very harsh blow. Sitting in his chair I am sure he felt distraught with reality. The
smiling faces before him he knew really wanted to hear that he was
happy and doing well. My heart wanted to whisk him away and flee us from
the situation I had placed him in. I wanted to believe we had not
changed. That the enormous hurt thrown at us last week was behind us.
That somehow we could continue as we have everyday. Looking at my Cody
I felt my heart ache for him. Yes, I was like the robot use to hiding
my pain and just pushing a head like a bull. Numb at times to the
emotions that consumed me. How could I have not thought about how all
this affected Cody. He was being asked to watch old school mates run
and play a sport he would never have the chance to play. He was sitting
in a chair with wheels while other children freely moved. He was hiding
hope that had been damaged days ago, to make others comfortable in his
presence.

My son was showing strength because I needed it. Because I was afraid, if we did not continue to be apart of the world,
we would get lost. I was still reading online and hearing the traumatic
effects other parents and families were feeling from PTCs trial suspension. While I was
encouraging my son to be strong, have hope, others around us were
acting out in their devastation. Trying to grasp at any thing that
might help no matter how irrational. We were surrounded by the hurt of
so many and feeling the effects of their cries to us.

We stayed for the game, smiling and chatting to all the people who had been apart
of Cody's academic life. Cody often turning to search my face for
comfort and to help free him from the questions. We managed the evening
with social grace. Holding back hurt that still rested heavily on our
hearts. Cody did not once complain. Finally in the car he told me he
was happy it was over and he wanted to go home and join his world
again. The world where he felt safe and comfortable the world that did
not remind him of what he could not do, like play basketball or run. He
was happy to be home where he could just be himself and feel good about
that, no matter what he was feeling inside.

















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