A funeral for an 8 year old girl. A girl who was born with Trisomy 15. Who lived longer than her older brother, also born with Trisomy (though I am not sure which gene was affected). A girl who could not walk, could not talk, who was blind, mostly deaf, who had to be fed with a stomach tube her entire life. Whose growth was stunted, facial features malformed and who lived her life in a special stroller/wheelchair or laying on a blanket on the floor.
I listened to her uncle talk at the service about how she had impacted his family's life. Her father read "Letter to My Father", bringing the congregation to collective tears. Her young classmate, John, who ate lunch with her everyday and read to her, frozen in front of her casket and sobbing as he was lead away by loving adults. Listened to her teacher, her physical therapist, her instructor for the deaf, eulogize that, though they were hired to teach her, it was she who taught them.
My sorrow today has highlighted an incident with my NM just two months ago. NM asked how my friend, who is a special ed teacher, was. I mentioned her work was stressful and how she had recently started a new position where she was an advocate for the parents of handicapped children in the school system.
NM's comments: "They don't need an advocate. These children have no business taking up resources in the school system. They can't learn anything." So I mentioned one child my friend worked with and how she taught him how to use a fork, though it took the whole semester. NM said "SEE, that's what I mean. They will never be of any use."
So, as I listened to so many people who valued their time with, learned and grew because of the relationship with a child who my NM threw away as a burden on society, my heartache was doubled. For the loss of this soul to those who loved her and lived with her. And for the loss my NM will never get.
