When Life Happens: A Birthday Rolls Around Again

7 Nov

I owe you all an apology again for not having updated in a while. Each time something happens, I make a mental note to write about it, even going so far as to draft it in my mind, but for one reason or another, I never get around to sharing it with you. There’s been a flurry of changes in our home in the last three months. Even as the weather has changed from being hot and unbearable to being cold and rainy and then back to hot again, so has our home and our lives. It’s getting harder to just roll with the changes when they do come, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just part of getting old.

The biggest news in our lives, and I mean that of the pleasant variety, is that Alphonse turned 22 last week. I’ve been dreaming of throwing him a party for his birthday for forever, but it simply has not happened and not for lack of trying. He still doesn’t do so well in crowds and noisy places so we figured another way to celebrate this special occasion. Instead of one big blowout, we decided to serve him his favorite dishes- one special dish a day- on the days leading to his birthday. We had pizzas one day, KFC fried chicken the next, garlic shrimps after, and Tita Lulu’s tokwa’t baboy (tofu and pork) after that. On his birthday, we went Asian with Chap Chae as his birthday noodles, Korean fried chicken with honey garlic sauce, and Szechuan style prawns. Not bad for a homemade birthday feast, right?

Aside from the special dinner we shared with a few of our extended family, we planned a picnic for him last Saturday. This one may strike you as strange, but it really isn’t, considering he hates crowdsalphonse-nov52016 and noise. So where to have a quiet picnic away from everyone else? At the cemetery, of course. by my dad’s graveside and on a weekend after All Souls’ Day. Perfect, right?

We brought mats and rechargeable fans, an extra tent, umbrellas, and four pizzas, three orders of buffalo wings, and lots of cold drinks. We sat around for two hours and made small talk while we ate, Alphonse in the middle of it all, relaxed and unfettered. When the temperature soared, we packed up our stuff and cleaned up, then headed home. Alphonse was content and happy, singing his wordless ditties all the way home.

Unfortunately, the planned Sunday trip to Tagaytay didn’t push through. We had a sudden home emergency that necessitated scrapping our plans at the last minute. Poor Alphonse! He was all dressed up and ready to go. I knew he was disappointed, judging by the way he puckered his lips into pouts the whole day. Later in the day, he took two short rides with his dad but even those didn’t seem to make up for the canceled plans. We have to reschedule soon because we made a promise to him; here’s hoping the next one pushes through.

I know I haven’t shared much about Alphonse in recent months. Truth is, as Alphonse gets older, it gets harder to keep writing about him. Physically, he is an adult. Already, he has almost four inches on me and can match me pound by pound, weight-wise. He is strong and strapping, with firm arms and sturdy legs. Cognitively, however, he functions somewhere between three and five years old; emotionally, he is at an even lower developmental level. He is impulsive, obsessive, and requires 24/7 attention. The mismatch between his size and mental age have obviously become wider with time. As such, behavior that may be considered amusing when done by a young child no longer seems cute or funny at his age.

As his family, we see him always through the lens of love. Even at the worst of times, when our lives are consumed by rigidity and explosive violence, our anger comes from our own helplessness and failings and not from a place of hate and indifference, not of him or his autism. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of others who may now view him as threatening and frightening. This is the quandary I find myself in. To keep writing about Alphonse and all his challenges may mean creating fear and revulsion in those who do not know him or have no wish to get to know him. To stop altogether may mean sweeping his story, and many others like his, under the rug, at a time when we severely need to rectify the public’s misconceptions on autism.

Forgive me for the reluctance to share more stories about him in the future. I will not stop writing, that is a promise I made to myself many years ago when I started to blog, but perhaps it is time to reconsider the direction I may wish to take in this online journal. I’d like to think of it as a way to redefine and reshape our relationship as he grows older. And though you may see him still through snippets of our lives, he will occupy less and less space on this journal as I allow him the privacy demanded of his age.

Thank you to all those who have loved him, even from afar. And thank you for watching him grow up through these pages. It’s time for him to be 22.

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