by Troy Foster
I’ve been
thinking a lot about a skateboard for the last couple of weeks. Trust me, I’m not a skateboard guy, never
have been, and don’t plan to pick up this new hobby. Though some of you would have fun watching
that unfold.
No, my newfound
interest in this board with wheels comes from Henry’s obsession. Like most parents, we began waiting it
out. Wait for him to lose interest – or
even forget about it. Straight from
Parenting 101 when a 5-year old asks for a skateboard, right?
He was
relentless. Henry described the colors,
how it would feel smooth at first but rough after awhile, the skateboard’s
shape, what the wheels looked like, and the decals that he’d put on his ride. With a description so vivid, you can’t help
but visualize his skateboard – and just know that you are seeing the same thing
he imagines.
Parenting 101 in
full effect had us relaying a lot of empty “what a great imagination,” “maybe
Santa Claus will bring it one year,” or “that’ll be nice when you’re older,”
etc.
Then, Henry
started talking about what it would feel
like when he rode the skateboard.
His anticipated excitement of going fast or up, down, and around was
unremarkable. But the look on his face
as he described it, the pure joy, bright eyes and wide smile, and his giggle –
left me speechless. Then, I noticed that
I was smiling along with Henry.
And then, I was
horrified. The path I had been on was to
let Henry wait to experience something
every kid should. An activity that his
feeding tube, pump in his backpack always on his back, his muscle weakness, and
breathing issues would all caution against.
As would the fact that those things are expensive and we’re not made of
money. Surely, Parenting 101 would say
“no way.”
We were quickly
reminded that we’re on a different path.
Later, when he’s older, Santa’s visit two years from now – all speak of
a future that might not be. A time that
Henry’s disease may rob him (and us) of.
So, as we have with other things, we look to enjoying and experiencing
the things that we can. Even if not age
appropriate, the most financially responsible, or other things that Parenting
101 would instruct. Though his disease
may limit what he’ll experience, and us with him, we won’t let norms or
practicalities stop his smile.
I have a
sneaking suspicion that Santa will be toting a skateboard for Henry this year. I know that friends of ours – other parents
brought together because they face similar challenges/tragedies – would do the
same thing. That is especially true of
our dear friends that have already had to say goodbye to their little
ones. (I was just listening to a song by
Taylor Swift www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiX7fA9da6A
– dedicated to one of these
little boys – Ronan; I know that he – and his parents – wouldn’t think twice
about this odd dilemma.) The skateboard
it is!
By the way, I
dare you to listen to that song and NOT cry.
Impossible.
To help children with terminal or
life-threatening illnesses, please visit www.henryshope.org.
