fatherhood | themaxjourney

The moments when I’m acutely aware of my own failures, are the worse. When I feel like I’ve become a fraud, fearing that I’m moments away from being exposed.

I question who I’ve become as a father, I question my capacity to adapt. The road has changed, the pedestrian sterile path is gone, replaced by a grinding rarely traveled path. No wider then needed, the fullness of the forest closes in on those not strong enough to carry on.

It’s not my ability to physically proceed but my soulish desire to go back. I fear I’m not strong enough mentally and emotionally to continue the journey. Some days the light cuts through shining the most amazing light, others the clouds seem to create a haze so thick its virtually impassable. All I can do is sit and wait, providing just enough time for my mind to twist and turn. Everything comes into question.

I know I’ve got no choice but to carry on. One proverbial step in front of the other. Ignoring the selfishness within, trying desperately to hold on to the joy of the journey.

I originally posted this in 2011, I am reposting in honor for all those without a voice.

The short bus

I am the father of a special needs child, that rides a special needs bus, and goes to a special needs school.

The special needs bus is a bus filled with hope, filled with redesigned dreams. As a parent of a special needs child that bus represents life, it represents a struggle that encompasses every hour of every day.

The special needs bus is filled with kids that have faced and beaten odds that most people will never have to think about let alone face. Kids that were never supposed to make it, that had been counted out.

The parents that walk or wheel their kids to that bus are parents that have walked the darkest halls and been deep in the belly of hopelessness. I am inspired by the parents I’ve met that for decades have lived the life of a special needs parent. The lack on understanding, the looks and the stares.

The thing about being a parent of a special needs child is that it’s tough to keep your shoes clean, from the tears of pain, the tears of joy, the sanitizer that spills from the countless hospital rooms, and the dust that is kicked up while walking your son or daughter down to the special needs bus.

The journey and the path

The short bus