It’s really hard for Mom today. I can picture her, sitting in the car with tears streaking down her face. Today is the first day ever, where one of us did not take you to the bus, or to school. I remember when you weren’t even two years old, and your Occupational Therapist Amy said we need to start thinking about a wheelchair, because you’d be starting school soon and you would need the wheelchair for the bus. When I asked, in disbelief why so early, she told me that special needs kids like you started school when they are three! And to get to school you’d ride the bus, and you’d need a wheelchair. I remember being so scared. Watching your little body in that chair, being lifted up by your bus. I followed you in the car that day, and for many days. Actually, I also stayed at school with you and sat in your class. For many weeks! I was so worried to leave you.

But slowly we got used to it. It helped that Miss Amalia stayed with you every day. And those bright mornings in Claremont soon became sunny, or cloudy, or rainy or snowy days in Hunt Valley. We would be waiting in the van, sheltered from the frigid air, or the humid heat. We’d watch the bus go down and pass us, and then come back up with lights blinking. And every afternoon, I’d wait for you, or would sometimes be late and pick you up, leaving my car at the mailbox and running you home, sometimes in pouring rain.

Today is the first day we don’t get you ready for school in the morning, packing your backpack with fresh bibs, extra feeding bags or diapers for school. Today will be the first afternoon we don’t pick you up, and check your backpack to read the notes your teachers had sent home. Today is the first day I don’t stop to think about what you’re doing in school. If they are taking care of you, if you are OK there. Instead, I’m crying in my office writing you this letter, hoping my burst of tears aren’t loud enough to hear outside of my office door. And instead of worrying about you, I’m worrying about Mom.

For 15 years we got you ready, changed you and fed you, then took you to the bus. Sometimes it was hectic, and we were running all around. But you were always calm, watching us stress over it all. Every once in a while, Mom would need to go to your school for something, sometimes to drop off medication. And she would always drop in and see you, check in on you. Can I ask you a favor? Can you drop in and check in on Mom today too? I know she would like that.