Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 94 Comments

When dreams fade

The pre Valentine onslaught is in full swing. One advert claiming to have the perfect gift for my partner, every base covered….. Really – every base?

I’ve always been a daydreamer. As a child dreams of football, cricket, astronauts and mountains dominated. They gave hope. The years went by and still I dreamed. Dreams of happiness and a successful career. Then I met my partner and the dreams changed. Suddenly dreams focused on starting a family. Then our son was born and dreams shifted to happy family life. Few years further passed and it became more likely no more children would arrive – again my dreams shifted. Now they were dominated by images of us happily growing old together. Walking hand in hand. Sat together in Parisian cafes. Sharing new experiences in new lands. Dreams and hopes intertwined. Then the world suddenly changed….

Now I live in the moment, just focused on the practicalities of the day. When I daydream now (very rare) these are entirely focused on our son. Dreams involving me have gone. When I look – nothing. They died with my partner. No happy thoughts of growing older. Just the deepest blackness. I have heard this phrase used before. Living our lives through our children. It is so true. One role.

One day I do hope my daydreams return. Some things don’t change. I am still a daydreamer at heart.

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Put in my place

The directness and purity of autistic children is a blessing. It certainly puts you in your place….

I told a really bad joke and got no reaction. So I told it again but this time started to explain it.

“Dad just stop. You don’t need to repeat it. The greatest artists and musicians never copied their masterpieces, they moved on to new ideas. Never repeated themselves.”

After a few seconds of silence

“Dad in no way am I saying you are a great artist or musician. The phrase can apply to others as well”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 67 Comments

Enlightened by a flapjack

Son has always had a healthy appetite, but unlike his dad it doesn’t seem to impact on his body shape. At his last school (with less than 50 kids) lunch was very relaxed, with room to spread out and time for him to have several helpings.

At his new school meaningful intel about the practicalities of the school day has dried up. No feed back from school and a son who often wants to quickly forget about the traumas of the day. So I had no idea how lunchtime was going. I payed the school meal bill online and assumed a balanced diet was being consumed. He never complained about it so it must be ok – that’s my 479th bad parenting example, complacency. I did notice that he had a remarkable appetite on his return. Often eating me out of house and home.

This week as I paid the online meal system I noticed by chance an option to view what the menu was. Reassuringly it looked pretty good. Then I noticed another well hidden option which was tomview what he had actually selected. The selection was very enlightening…

********************

5th Sept – Pasta Main Meal

6th Sept – Macaroni Cheese (very surprising as he hates this)

7th Sept – Flapjacks x2 (sweet granola bar)

After that every day has been Flapjacks x2 apart from 2 days which showed up as a Tuna Sandwich.

*********************

By my calculations that’s 184 Flapjacks since September. Bugger – that’s my 480th bad parenting example, must stop swearing.

So it was time to have a more in-depth fact finding chat with our Son. Apparently on the first two days only his year group was in school. It was fairly quiet and he enjoyed his pasta dish. On the second day he thought the sign said pasta meal and was a bit miffed when he found macaroni cheese on his plate. After those two quiet days school lunch has become a nightmare. Too many kids, too little space and limited time. For a main meal you have to queue up for about 20 minutes. After that you need to circle round the dining area waiting for a space to become free. A bit of a nightmare for anyone, a lot of a nightmare for someone with Aspergers. To jump the queue you can opt for either a Sandwich or Flapjack or icebun. Queue jumping it was then for our son. I was puzzled why he broke his sequence of Flapjacks heaven with two Tuna Sandwiches (especially as he doesn’t really like bread). Apparently they had sold out of Flapjacks….

I have now spoken to school but they can do little, just too many kids to feed. I suggested staggering the lunch starts but apparently this cannot be done logistically. Really!!. They will however think about some dyslexic friendly food signage.

So I’m not sure where this leaves us. Packed lunch is not an option. These have to be dropped off at another part of the school prior to the first lesson and this would just provide more school stress for him. He’s never going to queue. So it’s Flapjacks, sandwiches or go hungry. I suppose at least he is eating something- 481st bad parenting example, it’s not a healthy option. Will just have to ensure he gets a good breakfast and have plenty of food in for his return.

One last thought.

After our conversation he asked what was for tea.

Rather sheepishly I replied

“I baked a fresh batch of Flapjacks this morning”

*********************

For a different and far more astute take on the autism school lunchtime trials please read Robyn’s great post from earlier in the week.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 60 Comments

Bereavement and Aspergers

Death is inevitable but so so tough to comprehend. It’s hard for a grizzly mile worn traveller like myself to cope with, what on earth is it like for someone so young. Especially when it’s now 5 major deaths in 4 years. He’s only 11.

My son living with his Aspergers finds comfort in routine and orderly plans. Bereavement doesn’t fit into this ordered and planned world. Suddenly the world shifts, things are never the same again. This complete paradigm shift seems to manifest itself as shutdowns in his processing skills. His fine tuned memory becomes vague and unreliable. Concepts and principles become just random jumbled images. Simple tasks become complex nightmares. All he can think about is that the world and his happiness will never be the same again. Completely lost in this alien world.

Another aspect of Bereavement is a sensory one. Our son constantly fights to control and deal with all the sensory inputs flooding his body every second, every minute, every day ….. hardly ever receding. He has talked about death ramping all these sensory inputs up several levels. Suddenly the noise in his head is louder, he can feel the heart pounding, his skin is oh so much more sensitive, the unsettled stomach becomes a whirling vortex. He is trying to understand death while coping with this sensory storm.

When Bereavement occurs so many worries resurface for our son:

  • Fear of his own mortality. Suddenly every cold, every encounter with an unclean surface, every bump, every cough is a potential path to death.
  • Fear of his Dads mortality. No backstop, no second parent. Images of sad kids in cold foster homes like Harry Potter or strict Victorian orphanages flood his mind. How many movies have this as it’s premise.
  • Fear about losing special loves he will encounter in the future. Is the safest option to just shut the world out.
  • Bad things keep happening so they must be the norm in life.
  • Is it me. Am I to blame for this.
  • I just can’t find order and rationalise things anymore.
  • You learn to love, you learn to trust, then it is gone.

I think that final fear underpins everything. Trust in life for our son is hard to establish. He works so hard to build those bridges. Death smashes those bridges, breaks his hard fought trust.

We have started the healing process. Recommenced all the stuff which has helped in the past. But each time it happens the path to recovery becomes longer and more difficult.

The irony here is that this post is about our son (my only focus) and yet those last two lines (without thinking) are probably about me.

We now try to move on. The motto we have adopted is ‘each morning we dust ourselves down and go again’. Next post I will talk about some of the stuff which helps our son. More uplifting. More humorous. It has to be that way.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 81 Comments

It’s not just vampires that don’t like

Its not just vampires that don’t like garlic…..

“Dad I have to take some ingredients in for Food Technology. I tried to write the list down.”

So all the ingredients were carefully packed into the school bag. The last item. What does that say, big something.

“Think it’s a big garlic.”

Ok you can have a few cloves. Job done.

Fast forward to the end of the school day.

“Dad it wasn’t a big garlic it was a big turnip.”

No damage done and some laughs. Well that was until I went to empty the school bag.

Wow what a smell. A really strong garlic smell filling the room emanating from the bag. It was that bad I was tempted to call the Ghostbusters. Apparently when our son had discovered that the garlic was surplus to requirements he just throw it back into the school bag. Now everything stunk. The bag, the books, the pencil case, the calculator, the iPad.

One hour and one full bottle of Lemon Surface Cleaner later everything apart from the bag smelled ok. The fuming school bag would just have to be washed. Chucked into the washing machine – job done.

Contentedly I walked to make a drink. A thought crossed my mind. Houston we have a problem!!!! Some numpty forgot to empty the washing machine before the garlic bomb started it’s cycle.

60 minutes later. The bag still stinks. But progress – now the school clothes and my sports kit stink of garlic. So second washing attempt this time with triple the soap and half a bottle of fabric conditioner.

60 minutes later. The bag, clothes and now the washing machine stink of garlic.

Advice was sort from the internet. Third washing attempt but this time with added vinegar and three cut up lemons.

60 minutes later. Thankfully success. Strong garlic smell replaced with strong lemon smell. I’ll take that. Luckily after tumble drying the lemon smell is now almost pleasant. Unfortunately the school bag was obviously not tumble dryer proof. It now resembles a shrivelled prune.

A very tired Dad sits down with a well earned coffee.

“Dad you smell of garlic….”

I can now see why vampires don’t like garlic…..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 63 Comments

Putting this off for a while

Before the world changed we had quite good balance in our relationship. We both managed to maintain reasonable careers while making sure we always had one of us there for our son. Our trips out as a family curtailed when the Aspergers started to kick in more. However we realised it was important that we had time outs to recharge the batteries. My recharge times largely centred on climbing and going to see my football team.

The world has changed now.

Climbing has gone. Replaced by the very occasional trip with our son to do a bit of walking on some remote hill top.

Trips to see my Football team has kinda stayed in place. They feel like a connection with a much different world. Maybe three or four times a year our son will go to visit my sister for a few hours to allow a trip to see my team. Occasionally I can get a spare ticket so I can take our son to a match. More often than not my ticket is taking up by a friend.

Unfortunately a decision needs to be made. Something I have been putting off for a while. Football really doesn’t fit in with our new life. It’s very expensive. My son struggles with different environments – that even includes my lovely sisters place. My son will go to the stadium but the crowds don’t sit easily with him. It’s becoming very difficult to justify. It doesn’t help that my team is now owned by a really unsavoury and deeply unpleasant character – but that’s by the by.

It’s difficult. I have been going for 32 years. It’s the only time I get to meet some of my friends these days.

But now it’s time to close a particular chapter in my life. Things change, life moves on, you adapt. So after one final match then it’s goodbye Newcastle United….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 64 Comments

150 miles apart

Son just looked at me with that knowing smile.

“Well played Dad”

He is accustomed to the occasional mess up. I like to think that it’s all part of his educational journey. You can learn from the best but wow you can learn from the worst….

Our son really loves rock music. One of the few public gatherings he actually looks forward to is a rock concert. He has seen Iron Maiden, Hollywood Vampires, The Darkness and The Damned. This year is promising to to be a good one with a number of concerts already booked. Bank Manager not best pleased. The bookings is today’s educational cockup learning event.

Somehow Dad has managed to book for us to see Thunder in York and on the same night Ozzy Osbourne 150 miles away. That might cause a few logistical issues.

So what to do.

Our son has not seen either acts. His Dad has seen Oswald but never Thunder. I have really wanted to see Thunder for about 25 years. Only thing to do is let our son decide.

A decision I would have agonised over for days was dealt with in seconds by the logical Aspergers mind.

“I would like to see both bands Dad. One is a legend the other is a favourite of my Dads. Both are great live. Thunder will hopefully be going for years. However Ozzy is Ozzy. It’s unbelievable that he’s lasted this long. Probably last time we will be able to see him. Let’s see Ozzy and hope we see Thunder maybe next year.”

Decision made. I can give my tickets to my brother in law.

“But Dad since we are talking Ozzy and anything can happen with him. Can we hold onto the Thunder tickets until the last minute – just in case.”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 28 Comments

Cryogenics v Books

I was reading a little bit of a Carl Sagan’s Book to our son. Our son asked me to reread a couple of quotes.

“We are like butterflies who flutter for day and think it is forever”

“Books permit us to voyage through time, to tap the wisdom of our ancestors”

We then had a long chat about life, death and living forever. Cryogenics came up.

It got me thinking maybe books are a better bet than cryogenics. If you are talented enough to become a book author then your words can live forever. Books are so much cheaper. Books are not as frigidly cold and far more illuminating. I think Carl would vote for books.

Thank you for reading this

Gracias

Merci

Grazie

Kop Khun

Multumesc

Dankie

Danke

shukranu

Dhanyabad

Di olch

Tack

Hvala

спасибо

teşekkür ederim

dziękuję

Takk

감사합니다

arigatô

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 50 Comments

World War petZ

All hell broke out today. Sat with a hot drink trying to convince the laptop that the Excel Macro I had just produced was in fact perfect and not full of errors WHEN

The two cats and dog started scampering around the house like crazed banshees. Chairs crashing into walls, photos knocked off tables, books sent flying. I found the Living Room in a state of destruction as if World War Z had broken out. Three pets clawing and scratching at the bottom of a large sideboard. Oh bugger have we got a visitor and it’s the hunt. Annoyingly the sideboard had a small gap at the bottom big enough for a hiding space but too small to squeeze my hand into. Wonderful going to have to move that 8 tonne chunk of wood. Have to try and rescue the trapped creature.

Could it be a scary House Mouse

Could it be a deadly little shrew

OR is it

one of these little plastic Dalek (Dr Who) megalomaniacs.

Yes after breaking my back, trapping my fingers and squashing my toes – the sideboard was finally moved to reveal a DALEK. Yes the little darlings had been having a fantastic time warping adventure game. The pets excitedly claimed the prize and continued the game in another room. Well that was 2 hours well spent. Unfortunately now the 8 tonnes of wood have to moved back and the pets can’t help because they are too busy saving the earth from a Dalek invasion. Deep Joy!!!!!!

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 73 Comments

Changes is good just not that early

Today started off in the usual manner. Early morning exercise session listening to rock on the radio. Things going fine apart from the usual creaking body. Put me down for the a full body transplant, I’ve used this one up.

Then things started to change.

I hate doing the plank but apparently it’s good for me. This morning it became even more a form of modern day torture. Two cats decided to sit on my arched back while a dog attempted to lick my face off. Apparently this was one of the Spanish Inquisitions favourite tortures. But I survived.

Then almost immediately the radio signal disappeared. The sound of silence. So I quickly grabbed the first cd I could find. Black Sabbath Vol 4 and tried to complete the session.

Vol 4 is a fine album and features a rarity for Sabbath, a slow reflective song. CHANGES. This song finished off my exercises for the day. Normally at the end of a routine it’s an immediate mad sprint for the warmth of the shower. But not today. I just sat on the cold floor. Lost in thoughts.

A line from Changes had shaken me.

And I can still hear her last goodbyes

I can’t. As hard as I try I can’t remember hearing my partners last goodbye to me – blank. I can vividly remember her peacefully sleeping at the hospice as if it was yesterday. I can remember talking to her gently and holding her hand but as hard as I try I can’t remember her last goodbye. I can remember driving her to the hospital with our son but the conversations are gone. Why would I remember them at the time as she was only going in for a couple of tests and would be out by the weekend. I just can’t remember that last goodbye. That haunts me. Probably will always haunt me.