Some nights I can see through Han's window where he sits and writes to me, his office and other rooms cluttered with boxes still unpacked after seven years.  Before she left for college, it was common to hear his daughter play violin from her upstairs bedroom, beautiful sounds flooding my back yard where I would sit after dark just to listen, unaware that downstairs furniture was being ripped apart by his other child, holes punched into walls.  I never knew he had a son, then came our memorable first meeting when the fifteen year-old wandered into my house a few weeks ago, no eye contact or words except "Dog", and as he moved quickly through rooms to study objects with fast-beating intensity, the word feral came to mind.  Yesterday Kevon yelled "House!" over the fence then clicked his tongue to let me know he wanted to visit -- "Hi, Kevon," I answered, then he paced his yard with its new locks so he cannot escape and I wondered why he is so focused on my house, how he managed his recent Houdini escapes, what benefit will come from these emails between his father and me.  Tonight Han thanked me for the note about insurance coverage for disabled children who wander from home, then the email recounted his thirteen-year journey beyond the autism diagnosis, explored guilt over whether he has done enough for Kevon who briefly  attended the private school where my son is now, the school that "didn't work for him", and I pictured the line he had drawn between himself and hope.  Han mentioned Lorenzo's Oil, a film that made him ask if he possessed the same determination as the father's character to fight for and recover his son, the question forever a specter in his house.

Views: 6

Tags: nonfiction

Comment

You need to be a member of The 6S Social Network to add comments!

Join The 6S Social Network

Comment by Jamie Hogan on March 21, 2011 at 11:45am
A person divorced from hope is worse than dead. When I think of hell, the first thing I imagine is a place totally devoid of hope. "...I pictured the line he had drawn between himself and hope..." is a breathlessly sad and totally amazing line, T. I hate this situation, but I love that you write about it, for all kinds of reasons.
Comment by Brittany on March 21, 2011 at 9:10am
lots of questions... stay safe in your quest for answers. we all love ya' from afar and worry :)
Comment by Teresa on March 20, 2011 at 2:57pm
@Gita ~ I forward Han's emails to Dr. Cortez.  He feels compassion for this family and even agreed that one day we should invite them over for a barbecue.  And regarding a man-to-man, it won't happen, at least not on purpose.  Parents of kids with autism commonly have mild autistic symptoms.  Many things that once made no sense make perfect sense to me now.  A couple of years ago, long before any of this A-crap, a priest was signing his book for me and something came up about my husband, then the priest asked what he did for a living and I was stunned by the next question, "Could he have aspergers?"  Bells and whistles went off.  I'm some sort of magnet, and a very sensory-sensitive creature myself.  I grew up feeling closer to animals than people.  I feel comfortable around autism.
Comment by Gita on March 20, 2011 at 2:15pm
From afar, with the perspective of  a near-stranger, I have to ask, again: where is Julian's father in all of this? And doesn't it seem as if a man-to-man between the two MEN would be appropriate so that each father gains a little understanding of what the other thinks or knows or wants to learn about the other's handling of a boy with autism? One is suffering deeply and has been unable to unpack belongings. The other is a doctor who is starting out on the journey. But then, obviously, I have the perspective of one who lives afar. Best of luck. I tend to agree with Sandra's comment about spreading yourself too thin. The kindness of your heart is taking on the sorrows of another family, and in a very real way, it was Han's  responsibility to find the right school for Kevon. It really was.
Comment by bolton carley on March 20, 2011 at 2:00pm
what ifs and what may bes can keep a person in thought all their lives as you so well wrote here.
Comment by Teresa on March 20, 2011 at 1:28pm
Good point Sandra.  I see him as a cautionary tale.  But he is further down a road I'm just beginning, and though his son is more severely autistic than mine, there seem to be lessons in this, or if nothing else, a reminder to stay strong and positive. 
Comment by Sandra Davies on March 20, 2011 at 12:48pm
It's probably inappropriate, but I believe you'll take it as I mean it, but I find myself wanting to warn you not to give too much of yourself away, not to spread yourself too thinly, because I'm not sure that you are gaining anything from Han.   Which is not to say you ought to, just  ...

© 2013   Created by Robert McEvily.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service