Always On My Mind

As I strained to hear the voice on the conference call and frantically looked at the list of names to know who was talking, I couldn't help but think of my son sitting in his hospital room almost 900 miles away.  He had no idea that there were 17 people in 7 different locations who had been on a call for over an hour discussing him.

It has been 6 months since Jim and I drove 14 hours to admit Michael to the Neuro-Behavioral unit at Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore. Now we are preparing for his transition to St Louis to live in a residential facility with Easter Seals. 

These conference calls happen weekly now and include 16 professionals in different locations, and us. The topics include: how to set up his new residence, what procedures to put in place to deal with his aggressive behavior, what staff to hire, how to train the staff, etc. Data is given, procedures and policies are often disagreed upon, discussion happens, agreements made. All the while, the subject of all conversation sits in his room in the hospital oblivious to the attention he is receiving over the air waves.

We visit Michael at least once every 3 to 4 weeks. Since he is non-verbal, it's impossible to know what he is thinking when we walk through the door. Does he wonder where we've been? Would he like to ask what took us so long? Is he just so happy to see us that none of that matters? Does he long to go home? 

What he is not aware of is all that happened that led to us walking through that hospital room door. Normally it means we got up at 4 am, drove 2 hours to the airport, parked our car, took a shuttle, got checked in, went through security, took 2 flights that included a layover, waited for our luggage, took another shuttle to rent a car, and drove 30 minutes to the hospital. All he knows is that he looked up and saw us walk through the door. 

We don't explain all we did to get to him, he wouldn't understand. We just wrap him in our arms, tell him we love him, kiss him, and settle in.

As I strained to hear the voice on the conference call last week, I couldn't help but think about Michael sitting in that room, unaware of all that goes into his care; all of the battles we have fought to get him the help and resources he needs, the sleepless nights when all we think about is him, the conversations, the paperwork, and our heavy hearts as we miss him and want better for him. He is always on our minds!

Later that day I thought about all of the times I ask the same questions of God that my son might be asking: What took you so long? Why haven't you worked this out? Do you even remember that I'm here? 

I have no idea all that goes on and how he is at work for my good in ways that I cannot see or understand. I will never understand the depths of his love for me...or for my son. But I do know that nothing can separate it from me, and I am always on his mind! 

I will find my peace and hope in that.