On the 13th anniversary of my husband Harry’s death, Saturday, March 8, I think about all of the time that has passed, all he has missed, and all I would love to tell him if I had the opportunity.
If only he could come back for one day and I could tell him every delicious morsel of the past 13 years of nurturing our “miracle child” born after six rounds of IVF, and helping him to battle allergies, severe ear infections, sensory processing issues, and accepting the highs and lows of autism and the quirks and gifts that come along with it.
After all this time, I find that grief comes in waves. I will be watching a romantic comedy, a sweet Hallmark movie, seeing a Broadway musical, or listening to a favorite song, and everything that Harry and I were doing at the time will come flooding back to me in a rush of emotion, and I yearn for the life that we thought we were going to have.
We met and lived in South Florida and spent periods working in Philadelphia (his hometown), Washington, D.C., Baltimore (where I have family), L.A., and N.Y.
I also often think about Harry’s definition of home.
One day, Harry and I were discussing whether we should move to the Philadelphia suburbs. He said that home was not a place; it was a person. He added that I was his person, and if we were together, he would always be home. Sometimes, I will hear a conversation like that during a romantic movie, and I remember our lovely romance.
When Harry died of congestive heart failure at age 57 (following a near-fatal car crash, (not his fault), two days after his March 6 birthday, I thought I would never feel like I was home again. But he also promised he would never leave me alone, and
he did not. Adam was always there to remind me of what is possible, how to find empathy and care for others the way we want to be cared for. He is a remarkable young man.
We moved from Florida to Philadelphia before our now 19-year-old son was born, and Harry died on March 8, 2012, turning our world upside down and inside out.
I was 53 years old, the single mother of a rambunctious child with autism, working, caring for our dream home, and scared to death….I have often been asked during TV, radio, and broadcast interviews how I got out of bed after Harry died. My response was, Really? I did not have a choice. I was in charge of everything in our lives.
One of my favorite TV shows, Hallmark’s The Way Back, is about three generations of women on a Canadian farm who can time travel via a “magical” pond.
The Season 3 finale takes place on Friday, March 7, and every time I watch this intriguing and thought-provoking show, I ponder what day I would return to if I could time travel. The one that comes to mind is the day before Harry’s near-fatal car accident that spiraled into a series of surgeries and medical complications that eventually caused his death. What would it be like to have had him in our lives the past 13 years instead of meeting him in my dreams?
But I also know it is too sad and dangerous to live our lives with regret. We have today and tomorrow, yesterday is in the rearview mirror.
So let’s remember our loved ones with deep affection, share their stories and wisdom whenever we can, and look toward building the happiest and most positive future for everyone in our lives. And celebrate all of our accomplishments, big and small.
During the past 13 years, I have reared a caring, empathetic, lovely young man who will graduate from high school in three and a half months.
We have been on a roller coaster ride of autism, school, personal adventures, and so much more that I eagerly share with other special needs parents, therapists, and educators so they can learn from our mishaps, challenges, and victories.
I wish with all my heart I could travel back in time and tell Harry everything he missed during the past 13 years, especially about Adam’s work at a local farm and sanctuary, high school drama club and talent show performances, and upcoming high school graduation. But there is a Jewish belief that as log as you keep someone you love’s memory alive, they will never be gone. I honor this with Harry on his birthday and every day for our son and myself!
In some way, I believe Harry’s spirit will be there to cheer on his amazing son, as I have every step of the way.
Now, when I think of home, I think of Adam. So as long as you have your person, I believe you are home.
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