I can still remember the last time I saw my grandpa. He was sick, frail, in the hospital. I walked in with my daughter and we sat and talked with him. He was himself, in just a frailer, smaller version. I remember him asking me, out of the blue, “Where does she go to school?” It was a question that stood out because we had always lived in the same small town. He then said, “Always know that she’s a smart girl.” It was a sweet reminder to focus on her strengths.
Just a short time later, he was gone. And our life took another, unexpected turn. An opportunity to do work I believed in came along. An opportunity that pulled at my heart in a way that I knew not to say no to it. But a part of me that knew we had to consider our whole family. There was our daughter, growing up in a school that I worked in, in the only community she had known. She was overwhelmed, always, but at least there were bits of familiarity. A place where routine had helped her and where we were beginning to learn the depths of which her Autism diagnosis thrived on predictability. How could we move?
But then I found it. A Google Search of schools in the local area, and just two miles from where I’d work, a school for her. A specialized school where needs would be met. Small classes, wonderful support. It almost seemed too good to be true. Maybe. Maybe this was it.
Fast forward a few months and we visited her school, and she came out, after a day long visit, smiling, relaxed, and said, “I want to go to school here. I love it.” In that one moment, the decisions were made. And we packed up. When your child is struggling, you don’t think twice. You don’t look back. You don’t worry about the house you built to raise her in. You don’t mourn over leaving the community where you grow up. That sadness is lost in hope. You know that it’s going to be hard and worth it, all in an instant. You go. All in.
The last year, as it turns out, was hard. Moving, losing more grandparents, finding our way in a new city, and trying to rebuild our lives in a place where we had truly left everything behind. Sometimes life can break us, throw us curve balls that get us off track, and feed on our souls, if we allow it to. Or, sometimes we can find the moments in the mess, pick up the pieces of our heart, glue them back together, and keep going.
We have to know that one day, maybe in a week or maybe in a year, we’ll see it. When we pull up to school and she’s walking out, smiling, and excited about having a great day. When her life is filled with clubs, dances, and friends. All those moments that were so hard will make sense. And that one moment, a grandpa who asked, “Where does she go to school?” will be profound.
And we’ll keep going. Knowing there will be good, bad, and amazing ahead. Remembering that there are moments in the mess along the way. That’s just how life is. But also knowing that if we follow our heart, we can’t go wrong.