I took this down for my own reasons and Heather insisted I put it back up. She wins.
My son, Malry, was born with Cerebral Palsy. The fact that he is alive is a miracle in itself. That is magnified by the fact that he was actually born dead. Since he was born there have been two more occasions where he technically died again. Both of those times were during seizures.
Heather, my wife, also has a seizure disorder. Her and Malry's seizures are both regulated with medication.
Greggory, my younger son, seems to be healthy as a horse.
Something came to me tonight while I was lying in the bed watching T.V. I live with fear in the back of my mind, every day, that I am going to lose one of them. I find myself on edge when Heather doesn't answer her phone. I start getting a slight knot in my stomach when she takes longer than I expect to go to the grocery store. I get upset when she stays up too late reading or watching T.V. because I'm afraid she'll have a seizure and hurt herself or worse. I do all of this without the courtesy of telling her why I'm upset.
Malry has a history of problems so worrying about him is second nature. He sneezed once and had a seizure in his crib. Now, nineteen years later, whenever he sneezes, I feel the need to go check on him.
Greggory, on the other hand, has never given me a reason to be afraid. I took that one on myself. Every day I am afraid that Greggory is too good to be true. He can't be as perfect as he seems. Each day the sun rises I thank God that he is as healthy as he is. I have taken all my hopes and dreams for my first born son and handed them to Greggory. It is a heavy package for him to carry...maybe a bit too heavy for a thirteen year old boy who just wants to play, read, eat...and hug.
All of these facts and words are just me trying to understand myself. There is no real organization to it. I thought about it and figured I would write it all down in case I forget it. Coming into a little personal clarity is pointless if you go to sleep and forget it all. Thanks for reading.
