Wednesday 2 May 2012

A Valuable Life

Tough day for my hubby yesterday. He teaches low functioning autistic children at the elementary school level, kids with tons of co-morbid conditions and intellectual disabilities. Well, one of the children passed away during a seizure Monday night. The teachers and aides were all affected. He had to call the parents of the other children to let them know what happened, as most of the kids he works with are non-verbal and wouldn't be able to tell their parents why they were upset. And they were upset. Even those who didn't understand or know what had happened were reacting to the grief and upset of the staff.
I appreciate that the parents and others get some comfort by believing that he is in a better place, in heaven, or whatever afterlife they believe is appropriate. I don't believe that. Being an atheist, I don't believe in an afterlife. When someone dies, they are not in a better place. They are dead. Whatever made them a person is gone.
That said, I also believe that this little boy is still with us. Every person he touched, every contact, every smile, every high five (and he loved to give high fives), will carry him with them. He was an individual, an amazing human being, and he will be remembered.
That, to me, is eternal life. No matter what, no matter how short, or limited, or difficult a life is, it matters. We are connected to every other life on Earth. We all have that intrinsic value, every life, every person, everyone makes an impact. That whole "Six degrees of separation" concept is true in that every person who is connected to even one other human being is connected to all of us.
This little boy is gone, and that is a shame, and he will be missed. But he will live in memories, and in the actions of every person who remembers him, and in the impact that they have on everyone who knows them. He mattered. Nonverbal, severely disabled, limited, he still mattered. His life was worth living, and worth having.

10 comments:

  1. This is just so sad. I am crying, because I can imagine so easily that my profoundly autistic son could be in this position. He doesn't have seizures, but with his limited capacity to understand I danger losing him is always at the forefront of my mind. So heartbreaking. I also am an atheist, so I don't think there is any better place. There's just here and this is all we got.

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    1. And it is worth having, for all the pain and promises. Nice to know that I am not alone in my point of view. Thanks.

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  2. Hi, I just found your site today. You're my new friend, K? I'm an atheist too, and share your thoughts on living on in memory. It's very sad about that little boy, and I agree, he did matter. We all do.

    Are you on FB?

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    1. Yes I am under Stay at Home Crazy there as well. Thanks for reading. :)

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  3. A beautiful tribute, and great thoughts about living on in memory. Very glad to have found you via Flannery.

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  4. What could be truer then our impact on others.
    I'm off to my grandfathers funeral in a couple of hours...
    I believe in God, but what you've just written is truer to me, then any of the catholic whoha I'm about to participate in.
    Love and hugs

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  5. Beautifully written! I truly believe that we all matter no matter. Thank you. I hope your husband and his team get through this with grace and love.

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  6. I am so sorry. So sorry. The children and you all must be heart-broken.

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  8. Lost my lovely grandmother in April and I too have an autistic 5 year old... and what is said about after death rings a bell -- in Hinduism there is belief abt afterlife - but when a person passes away - they take a little portion of mine away - it dies with them - Hemingway says that at the start of " For whom the bell tolls" and in "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance", its explained thus- you can think of commonality with each person as a large quilt we all have and each death makes that quilt smaller- maybe there is consolation in that we too are destined to go - so may as well live a good life while at it

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