Empty hand

I haven't posted in a while. Not that I haven't been writing. I have notes everywhere: in my phone, on the computer, on the backs of receipts, in various notebooks. I've been writing, or almost writing. Putting thoughts in words, but not refining. This I'm going to go ahead and write out, refined or not, just to get it out there.

Today is my birthday. Just like holidays are hard now, my birthday is very hard. I think my birthday is worse. When he came back, Sekai hated celebrating anybody's birthday. He said it reminded him that his birthday wasn't celebrated at the foster home when he was away.

I celebrated this weekend, and actually had a really good time. Then Monday, the tears came. The anger. The sadness. It wasn't until last night, well, this morning, a few minutes after midnight, when someone posted a birthday greeting to my Facebook page that it sort of clicked for me. It was officially my birthday. I had lived 13 months past my son in real time, and lived 22 years more in my life than he ever would in his life. And that hurt. Terribly.

This morning I was cheered up by the multitude of well-wishes through cards, Facebook messages, text messages, phone calls, and emails. My friends and family made a point to recognize me on this day, and the feeling was overwhelmingly warm. My mother even took the day off to be with me on my birthday. We planned to go to lunch. Then I suggested that we also try to see a movie. I had heard the new Karate Kid was supposed to be good.

[Spoiler alert] A few minutes into the film, I wanted to leave. The male child lead character in the movie is sad and fearful for much of the movie. This saddened me. He is beat up by other children, brutally beat up. This saddened me. The other children are encouraged to be brutal by their teacher, in what I could only process in my mind as child abuse: corrupting, embittering, taunting, even striking children for the purpose of making them fight each other. This saddened and angered me. Repeatedly, I wanted to leave the movie, but I didn't want to upset my mother who was doing all she could to make me happy on my birthday. And I wanted to see the movie turn around, to see the redemption. Before I could get to that place, the male lead character/positive male teacher is shown in a full on crisis of the heart. Before he even answered the question posed to him, I knew the answer. When he responded, "It is June 8", I almost screamed out loud. I wanted to leave. Right then. But I was afraid that if I stood up, the wails would also stand up, and that would be just too much for everyone. So I sat there. And waited for the redemption.

And for those of us who remember the original, or who have ever seen a "good versus evil" movie, we know the redemption comes in the end when the underdog triumphs. In Western culture, we seem to like stories of underdogs rising up and beating the meanies at their own games. My mind, though, kept going to Sekai. Sekai, who could out-talk and even out-whit his enemies, but could not physically escape them. I thought of the time a classmate yelled at him after the teacher moved Sekai in his wheelchair in front of the other student in line. The other student was physically imposing by grown man standards, and knowing he could not get away from him, Sekai began crying in the cafeteria, in front of everyone. When he came back home, Sekai was enrolled in a middle school in the new district; I was concerned, but he was happy, saying that he did not ever want to go to high school again. Sekai died the week before his second graduation from middle school, and I could not help but wonder if he had high school, among other things, on his mind.

Just as he could not escape the bully at school, or being promoted to high school, he also seemingly could not escape foster care, and the corrupted, embittered, taunting meanies and bullies there. Watching the teacher on the screen who taught his students to hurt others, I could not help but think of how we as parents put our trust into people and systems that are supposed to care for children, and how easily that trust can be broken. The students in the movie believed what their teacher was telling them, until they realized the losses they faced as a result. Sekai believed what his teachers, foster parents, social workers, judges, therapists, attorneys, and others were telling him, until he realized the losses he faced as a result. No kicks, blocks, or spins could help him. He didn't see himself as the underdog who would get redemption.

So he wanted to leave. Right then. And the wails stood up. And it was often just too much for everyone. And still I sit here. And wait for the redemption.



[PS-Karate is translated as "empty hand". Sigh.]
[PPS-I learned at a recent conference that bereavement, particularly loss of a child, forever changes one's perspective. I concur.]