I can remember being utterly annoyed at my brother, Joshua. I remember wishing him away when I was feeling particularly selfish. Granted I was 8 years old, I still feel guilty about having had such animosity towards someone I love. The guilt makes me feel empty now, but I know having someone like Joshua around isn’t always easy for anyone, and that I have to make peace with myself.
Joshua has Cerebral Palsy (CP), a condition that makes movement of the muscles stiff, causes a disturbed perception of depth and balance, or may cause involuntary movement. Most people with CP lead healthy lives with jobs, spouses, kids, pretty much anything they set their mind to. My brother has an extreme case of CP which hinders his ability to talk, or be toilet-trained. He has seizures that are intense and frightening. Doctor’s have even told my mother that he would never walk, but he learned when he was five.
No one expects to have a child with any sort of handicap, and while my mother did her best to accommodate all of his needs, I think it was just too much for my father. He ended up leaving my mother to raise Joshua all by herself. She couldn’t have a job because he needed constant supervision, so we were on welfare most of the time. My mother was doing well with him I think. My sister and I had more than we needed after my brother’s medical needs were met.
My mother ended up moving us across the country to get some moral and possibly financial support from her estranged family. I can only guess that her choice was made from the need of friends (who were hard to come by for my mother) and maybe even some people she could call family. They ended up helping for a few months, but then ended up being more of a nuisance than anything, not understanding the challenges of having someone with CP around.
Within a year or so after moving to this new state, my mother made friends with a woman named Linda who housed and took care of some elderly people. Having had experience in taking care of people with extended needs, my mother trusted her to watch him sometimes when she needed to do simple errands (as he was strong and loud and difficult to control in public) or when she wanted to take me and my sister out on an outing. One morning, after having him spend the night, Linda had sent Joshua to school with feces on his clothes. The school called the authorities and he was taken away from us. My mother, having never held a job before, couldn’t make a suitable living where we were at and moved us back home with some old friends of hers.
Since then, she’s never really tried to get him back. I think we all know that he has all he needs now with people (whom I’ve met) that seem to genuinely care about his well-being. Right now they say he has the mind of a three-year-old. He’s come a long way since the time he was living with us.
He’s 23 and living comfortably I hope. I haven’t seen him in 3 years, but he remembers me well. I’ve never before seen him smile so much than the time I’ve visited with him. It’s funny to think about it now. I’ll sit back and think of everything that limits him in life. I think about how he’ll never greet a hug with open arms, never know the meaning of a kiss, never tell someone how much he loves them, and yet I know that he doesn’t need hugs or kisses to know when someone is special to him. You can see the smile on his face when he looks at you and you’ll know he loves you. He’s so full of love; and while I love him and wish he could be with me, I know he’s with people who love him too.
