My Gardener

Day 7 of thanksgiving moments will dwell on my first grandchild, and only grandson.  It really seems weird, after having a housefull of boys all the time, that now I only have one grandson, but three granddaughters.  He's going to have a rough row to hoe, as they say.

My grandson, had the biggest blue eyes ever.  He was such a doll.  I nicknamed him "poot" because of...well...let's just say he made lots of noises.  Now, he expects me to call him that.  That's my greeting to him now.  He comes in, I smile and say, "Hey, Poot!", he grins, and then we hug.

We noticed that, as a baby, something just wasn't right.  He had all his fingers and toes, he had a beautiful little face, he had already cut several teeth by about 4 months which made that little smile adorable, but there was just something there that we couldn't quite put our finger on.

By the time he could walk, he was running.  I've never seen so much energy.  He would run and run and run until he was wet with sweat and exhausted, but he'd keep right on running.  Oh, to harness that energy and hook up an IV and let it drain into my veins!

He had a hard time trying to talk.  He had his own words and usually wouldn't try to say them the way he was supposed to.  He was perfectly fine to make up words and we had to just guess what they meant.  Still couldn't quite put our finger on what was different, but we were beginning to get some ideas.

When he was about four, he, his mommy, his daddy, and his baby sister came to live at Poppy's and Grammy's house for awhile because of hard times.  It was then, with the daily interactions that we were able to get a doctor's opinion, (sort of) about what the problem was.  It was that word we didn't want to hear and that we really didn't understand completely....autism.

When I thought "autism" I imagined a child sitting in one place all day in his own little world, not making any kind of communication with anyone.  But we soon found out that autism has many faces, but not only was he diagnosed with autism, but with attention deficit hyperactive disorder, or ADHD.

But autism isn't who he is.  He is a little boy that loves working on things, trying to fix them and make them work.  This includes lots of tape.  He loves making things for people.  I have a stepping stone of plaster with some paint and a big orange jewel on it.  I have a cement stone with WV written all over it because he knows Poppy loves WV football.  I have a little wooden sailboat that he put together and gave to me.  He's so generous and loving.

He never comes to my house that he doesn't bring a gift.  He makes his mommy go to Walmart and get Gram some cookies, or a flower that still sits on my porch table that moves when the sun hits it, or a plant of some kind.  He's so giving.

Speaking of plants.  He's a gardener.  Since about nine years of age, he has hoed his own little garden, and planted carrots, corn, beans, and whatever else he gets the mood to grow.  And grow he does.  His carrots were enormous!  He loves giving Grammy useful comments on why my plants aren't growing.  He's so smart.

He loves the outdoors.  He loves riding his bike, sleigh riding, and riding on Poppy's four wheeler with him.  He likes to fish, loves to catch animals in his cage(and let them go), and set up his motion camera to catch it all on camera.  He has a dog,kittens, some fish, frogs, ants and who knows what else is in that room.  He loves sleeping with stuffed animals.  He's so affectionate.

As he got older, his symptoms became more prominent.  He would have episodes of uncontrollable rage and his strength became increased during these episodes.  He would become violent and it could be directed at anyone, although he never did anything to me, but that's only because I wasn't around him as much during those times. 

I remember going to his house after one of those episodes to try and help.  He calmed down and I was talking to him.  He just looked up at me with those huge, beautiful blue eyes and said, "Grammy, what's wrong with me?"  That's one of those times when I believe you can actually feel the break in your heart.

The rages increased in intensity and frequency until his parents had to make the tortuous decision to send him somewhere in order to get the help he needed.  So, I volunteered to take him and his mom and dad to the place where he would be staying for quite awhile.  It was a four hour drive of breaking hearts, facing the unknown, and uncertainties.  The drive was kind of quiet with only moments of awkward conversation just trying to make him feel better about it all.

We got there, met with the workers, unpacked his luggage, bed clothes and toys, set up his new room and was ready to settle down for awhile to help him get use to everything and everyone.  After about five minutes, he looked at us and said, "You can go now."

We all just looked at each other with these dumb looks on our faces until we finally figured out he was ready to get on with this.  So, we left.  When we finally overcame the shock of it all, there were tears and pain and doubts.  It was a long way home that day.

He has been there about two years and will be coming home soon.  He's gotten to take trips, make friends, and graduated from elementary school.  It's not all okay now, and it never will be.  There will always be those episodes, those uncontrollable tendencies, and those times when he'll look at us with those big, beautiful eyes and wonder, "What's wrong with me?"  But despite all that, he'll still be generous, loving, giving, smart and affectionate, and I will always love him.