When One Door Closes...
An Essay on Closure
"When one door closes, another opens. But we often look so regretfully upon the closed door that we don't see the one that has opened for us. "
~Helen Keller
On September 27, 2003, I made the following announcement to a homeschooling list that I have been on a long time:
I have been thinking for a few months that Tigger needs a more grown-up name now that he is 16 and the tallest person in the family. Recently, someone reacted in shock to the 'news' that he is 16, telling me she thought "Tigger" was a tot. lol. That made me feel like, yes, it really is Urgent. And my youngest son really never has had a nickname.
SO:
Tigger's new nickname will, henceforth, be Emp: short for "emperor" because his middle name is that of an emperor, short for "empathic" because he is strongly empathic, sounds like Imp because he is like a little devil, and it also stands for Electro-magnetic pulse which satisfies the science geek in him.
My youngest son finally, at long last, has a nickname: Wav. He always liked sound and light when we studied science and this is the abbreviation for a wave file. Does everyone follow that? lol.
I am very happy. They are each only 3 letter's long, which will save on wear and tear of my fingers.
Kathy B. replied:
I'm kind of saddened by your announcement :-( I always liked his nickname.
Why do they have to grow up so fast???
The next day, September 28, 2003, I responded with this essay on closure:
I always liked his nickname too. He still tends to bounce around the house like a human pogo stick. It will be hard to get used to him having a new nickname. I began calling him Tigger in online forums nearly 5 years ago and it was something I called him occasionally at home well before that.
But, while I will miss his old nickname, I cannot say I am saddened. It feels like it is time for this change. I worked very, very hard to make sure he -- and I -- would be capable of having a full life. I spent the first 9 years of his life fearing that he would be one of those kids that fell between the cracks -- and that his endless problems would become my personal prison, preventing me from ever completing my own education and pursuing a career and full life for myself. Such fears have eased over time and now, finally, they are no more.
We finally transitioned to DSL over the summer, allowing all four family members to be online at the same time. This was very empowering for Tigg.... I mean, Emp and he began spending a great deal of time on the Internet. Out of this grew his interest in fan fiction. This puts him in touch with 'the world' in a way similar to what my membership in various online forums has done for me. With his many handicaps, he is content to access the world via Internet -- and I am hardly in a position to criticize. lol. I accept it as a valid means for him to begin pursuing a full and increasingly independent life of his own. And he sometimes quotes some slogan to me to the effect that he is roaming the world from the comfort of his desk.
At the same time, I am spending more and more time pursuing career-related interests of my own and less on homeschooling my boys. I am not finished with homeschooling them, not by any stretch. But the balance is shifting and has been for some time. A big recent development is that I spent this weekend finally migrating my website from the website of a good friend who graciously and generously offered to set me up in February and then collaborated with me to design WebPages that I found visually pleasing. This weekend, she gifted me the code she wrote, no strings attached.
With the "intro to programming" class I had last summer and a little guidance from my husband, much to my astonishment, I actually can manipulate html to a limited degree, as long as I don't have to write code from scratch or try anything too fancy. Who would have ever believed it? I wouldn't have if you told me that even 24 hours ago. (In fact, Margaret was telling me that just last night and I couldn't agree with her. lol.) I now have control of my own website and the intro to it states that it will no longer have specifically homeschooling related articles on it. (EDIT: obviously, I changed my mind.)
Yes, this name change does symbolize something of a wistful ending. But Emp never did grow up fast. I feared he wouldn't grow up at all. As a military wife, I find myself falling back on a strong military tradition of commemorating endings and celebrating new beginnings hand-in-hand.
Military culture lives with a daily profound awareness of mortality and of change. We move from place to place a great deal. Promotions happen. Old leaders move on and new leaders come aboard. And, yes, we do sometimes bury someone or take care of someone who was seriously injured in a training accident. It happens.
With such a background, as much as it brings a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye to write this post, I cannot say I am sad. This is a happy ending and a wonderful new beginning. It is the end of so many troubles, so many fears, so many difficult struggles and hard fought battles to make sure my child would ultimately be okay. I set that burden down gladly and I watch in astonished awe as he spreads his wings to take flight -- wings that once were so crippled and stunted that I feared he would forever be 'my baby' and I would grow to resent his cloying dependence upon me.
I miss my little boy. He seldom has much time for me anymore. And it leaves an empty place where I feel he should be. But it is an empty place that leaves room for personal growth in my life and I know that is an enormous and precious gift. He is not being tragically torn from me, to leave behind a wound that can never heal -- which could have happened had he died young from his previously undiagnosed health problems or from suicide, a very real possibility had I left him in school.
So, Kathy, I don't want you to be sad. This is a joyous occasion, a time for celebration. When one door closes, another opens -- and this new portal is more wonderful than anything I could have possibly imagined when Emp was little. So I hope everyone will excuse my bad manners if I walk around with my mouth hanging open for a few months.
Michele
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Redwoods and Gazelles
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Gifts of Another Kind
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On Manners
An Open Palm...
When One Door Closes...
Pack Your Sense of Humor
Pale Skin Disorder
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