April 24, 2009
Farewell to a friend
By Toni Lapp
Last spring about this time was one of the most difficult periods I’d experienced as a parent of a child on the spectrum. It was my son’s freshman year at high school, and the transition from middle school had been difficult. I won’t go into detail, but suffice to say that there had been disciplinary issues and we were grappling with the appropriate measures to take with a child for whom normal rewards and punishments didn’t seem to apply.
There were times when I hated the circumstances I found myself in, but, even worse, I couldn’t commiserate with others who I felt would judge me as an ineffective parent for not being in better control.
And then I met another mother at my workplace who also had a son with Asperger’s syndrome.
I was at ease with Lisa right away, and felt like I could tell her anything. Because her son was two years older, she had been through it already – from meltdowns, to medications, to taunting at school. It was like we finished each other’s sentences the first time we chatted.
I remember her showing me pictures of her son, and I bursted out laughing, scrambling to produce my pocketbook pictures: both boys had the same Aspergian half-smile.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could talk about everything — the good, the bad, the ugly — without fear of being judged.
We talked about the difficulties of getting an education from a school system that can seem indifferent. She told me how she maneuvered to get a paraprofessional placed for her son. She warned me about being complacent with school officials: “I’m sure they (school district officials) cringe when they see me, because I’m a mama lioness and I protect my son’s rights fiercely,” she boasted in an e-mail.
Despite her seemingly positive outlook, she acknowledged what many of us know, however: That it’s difficult raising a child who falls outside the norm. She’d struggled with anxiety, she confided. She said she was glad to know there was someone she could relate to during stressful times, and I felt the same way.
So fast forward a year. My son’s sophomore year had been going much more smoothly. I hadn’t talked to Lisa as much. Her son, a senior, had been doing well and was perhaps even on his way to earning a scholarship. Maybe we didn’t talk as much because we didn’t feel the need to commiserate.
And then our employer, like many others these days, had layoffs and Lisa was let go recently.
I didn’t know what she had been going through when we received word at work this week that Lisa had died. As with deaths of people that seem to be before their time, I hate to even ask the specifics. I do know that I feel regret that I didn’t take an opportunity to reach out to her when I still had the chance.
If someone would have told me a year ago that I’d be attending Lisa’s funeral, I wouldn’t have believed it, yet that’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow. One of her family’s requests was to make donations for autism research in lieu of flowers. I can’t think of anything more appropriate.
I feel like I’ve learned a lot from Lisa, whether she meant to teach me or not. The last, final lesson leaves me incredibly sad.
I am so sorry, Toni. What a hole that friendship must leave. I’ve been thinking of that a lot too because one of my favorite students died just about 2 weeks ago, a 40-something guy who had been rebuilding his life after a lot of hard luck. I look for him every time I go into the classroom. I bet you may still be looking for Lisa too. Take care and thanks for reminding us again of what is important.
Thanks to this piece, your friend is still teaching.