Spiritual words...

Before I had children, the words "Son" or "Daughter" had a very "externalized" feel to them, they really didn't touch me inside. Of course, I didn't have children, and those words applied to others. Since I became a father, those words carry so much more meaning and feeling than simply expressing a simple relationship. They refer to something within me as much as they refer to the two people with whom I share the relationship. When I speak the words now, they stand out so much more than the other words in my sentences. I don't know if anyone else can sense the weight they carry, but every time I speak those words, they seem to come up from my heart and not simply from my vocal cords (or vocal folds, to you SLPs). Like my previous post about how pictures have depths beyond those of sight, these words carry depth like no other I speak.

I want people to know...

I want people to know, as they walk into the new house, that it's an investment.
An investment in Ani's future.
This thought is foremost in my mind most of the day. If she never recovers enough to be able to take care of herself in some fashion, or is able to get some sort of vocation, then somebody has to take care of her and keep her interested in something. Let's see, if Christy and I live to 80, Ani will be about 40. If she lives to 80, that's another 40 years of somebody taking care of Ani. How much will that cost? 40 years. Think of that. I've already said that the nursing home placement of Ani scares me, so I need to make sure there's money available to take care of Ani in a stimulating environment. Sure, the house is big, sure it's got nice features, sure it's got a heated garage, but I don't see those $'s as a right-now-I-want-to-live-big, I see it as a savings account. Hopefully one that will appreciate greatly, since it was bought at the bottom of the housing crash. I see the house as somebody talking to Ani, somebody holding her hand, somebody trying to understand what she says, somebody really, really caring for her. I don't see the house as just a huge look-at-me statement. Of course, having said all that, I do plan on enjoying our new house as much as I possibly can.

Poem to Nate

Oh Nate,
When I see a picture of you, it’s not flat.
It has depth, but a depth that is multi-dimensional.
It extends within me, to where you are in my heart.
It extends through the paper, like you were real, and there to touch.
It extends through time, and I apply all the memories of your life up to the point of that picture.
It extends beyond where I can see, like you’re near me, but still somewhere else.
It extends beyond touch, like you fill me and surround me, but I can’t feel you.

How do I give them the best?

I want to give the best of me, at every turn, to Ani and Christy.
There are times where I look back and think that the best times of my life are gone now. How do I not let that affect my relationships? It's so hard sometimes to be hopeful. I look at Ani's past pictures, I hear people talking about birthday parties with their child and I think that Ani may never have another birthday party like that again. Sometimes it feels like I spend so much time planning for Ani's future just in case she doesn't get drastically better that I start thinking she might not get better and I lose hope. I do NOT want Ani to end up in a nursing home when she's 50, not being able to get around and experience relationships, even if they're pretty much single ended. I want to know the future. I want to know that Ani won't just get parked in front of a TV all day, and not have somebody talk to her presuming that she understands. I want to know that somebody will "converse" with her, tell her that they believe in her, and that they love her.
Back to my point, I find it difficult sometimes to leave any negative presumptions or attitudes in the car and bring all the positive features I can possibly bring to Ani and Christy.

The look

They look up at you,
you are everything.
How do you live up to that look?
You can't explain to them that you're flawed,
you make mistakes, you want take-backs.
They don't care,
they look up at you anyway.

Ani, I want you to know.

I tried to explain to you tonight, but you're only 5.
I am serving you the best I can, and I am happy to do it.
It's frustrating sometimes, but even if you don't give me feedback, I know I'm helping.
This is what it means to be a daddy.

Oh my girl,

Oh my girl,
I see you.
I see you beneath that layer that separates us,
that your laughter so easily penetrates.
I hear you.
I hear your determination in a voice
that doesn't always work.
I feel you.
I feel your soul on your cheek
when I kiss you.
I know you.
I catch the twinkle in your eye,
even when your head won't turn towards me.
I love you.
I know you love me,
your whole being tells me.

Finding my way

I find that if I don't focus on a course through life, or even through the day, I kinda get stuck. No longer can I just coast between the things or events of the day. If I don't have something in mind, I can get a little lost. I don't always digress into being sad, but often that's what happens. That's not to say that when I have my course set and in mind that I don't get sad, I do. But without somewhere to go that's planned (at least a little), I can get stuck in the "how can I go on" problem.

I live with two questions...

Two questions I live with...I want to know the answer to both of them. One answer will be slowly revealed to me as I grow older, and the other answer I won't totally understand until after I die.

The answer to be revealed is "How far will Ani heal?", which is the more important of the two questions. There is nothing I wouldn't give to have Ani healed. Short of that, I want to know how to plan for Ani's future, and provide an interesting and challenging life that is appropriate to her condition at any time. I suffer when I think that she might be bored, trapped in this body, unable to express herself. Self expression was a defining characteristic of Ani before the accident. Of all things in this world, I want to hear Ani's opinions, complaints, jokes, arguments, etc.

The other answer that I won't totally understand is the answer to the question, "Why?". Rationally, intellectually, even spiritually, I believe that it was random chance. However, when I look at Ani, or suffer at the absence of Nate in my life, rationality goes out the window. Why Ani? Certainly she never deserved it. The answer will more likely be in the form that the question "Why?" just doesn't even make sense to ask in this situation. However, even given all that, it still doesn't help.

What joy

I was just looking through some pictures on my laptop and I came across some pictures I took of Ani, Nate and I. My laptop has a webcam in the lid, and there's an application called photo booth that lets you take pictures, like, well, a photo booth. The two kids and I were obviously enjoying it. Then there's the 4 pictures of me kissing each child and each child kissing me. What joy to see these pictures again. Every night, I called my children "precious", and never did I take it lightly. What joy to remember the feel of each child's kiss on my cheek.