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Dad
& Mom Disappointed? by Kurt W. Franke To be perfectly
honest, I don’t think my mother and father were ever disappointed with my disability
and me. They never felt that I wasn’t doing my best at the time of my disability. All
through the following years, they respected me greatly and offered me all of their
genuine, parental support.
Certainly
though, they quickly saw what took years for me to see: the repellant way people treat
others who are different. I was young when I lost my right arm, and my parents were
adults, of course. Being adults, they surely saw the gruesome way both friends and
strangers viewed me. I was fifteen years old
and much too distracted to see what my parents were experiencing. That is what they were disappointed about: people’s
behavior concerning their crippled son. This was their disappointment.
Perhaps this was
the worst time in their lives up to that point: worse things were on the way. They not
only had to see their young son so hurt, both physically and emotionally, but also had to
see the ugly side of regular public encounters. This was a shocking life-changing
experience for both of them: no doubt.
It’s when
we see these changes to those around us, because of our disability, that we begin to
understand the enormity of physical disability. How one life can
change instantaneously and so many lives change soon thereafter, forever. This not only
for the participant, but also for all those who love that unlucky person. They live the
life of that person’s disability through their hearts. Terrible. For those who have a
loved one living within a deep terror, they live with an isolated anxiety and helplessness
that resounds deep through their spirit. Their hearts are broken. In I
remember the father of this young man who was a quadriplegic. The Father was so very
consumed with his son’s experiences. He asked me about playing the harmonica because
all it takes is breath to play. Nothing really has to be held or manipulated: the mouth
does the entire job. The father was so excited when he realized that his son, basically,
could play the harmonica just like everyone else. His face lit up like 5th ave
when he suddenly saw the glimmer of happiness, if only for a moment, in his son’s
life.
For the very
first time I saw how deeply hurt a parent could be. At that moment, I saw in this man’s
face the desperation and fear that his precious son was living. In no way did this Father have any
disappointment about his son. He was
discontented about life: the dirty tricks that life plays on the unfortunate few.
Wondering about what we have control of and what we don’t have control over. Why some people pay a greater, more horrendous
price than the person who stands next to them sharing the same sunset. For
no reason at all, an unlucky soul is chosen to go to Hell for the rest of his or her life.
Those who love this individual are destined to hold the hand of the beloved while watching
their spirit swelter in the torment of physical disability.
I know I’ve
never disappointed my parents while living with my disability. Their love sees past the
trite-minded simplicities that bog down all those who haven’t gained the wisdom and
insight that the disability experience offers. My parents gained quality in their lives in
a strange way. I gave them strength. I helped them as much as they helped me. They have
taught me about love and devotion; self-sacrifice and finding great inner strengths. I
have taught them about themselves and what they never imagined they would ever have to
face. I’m not proud of this: it all was by an
“accident”. I wish these learned
experiences were never to be, but life doesn’t ask what you would like. Life just
gives it to you: tough.
Disappointment
doesn’t exist in the hearts of those who love you. Maybe they’re bothered that
you’re not wearing the latest shirt they gave you for your birthday, but they’re
not disappointed with you. That’s for sure. All Rights Reserved 2002
Kurt W. Franke |
