Never Eighteen...

He turned eighteen two days ago. It was cause for celebration at the centre. He might have been happy about it. Again he might not care. It was hard to say with him. There he stood – a handsome young man with a smile that could light up the world. His shy ‘Anima!!’ and my ‘what, Anima?’ and the ensuing ‘Good Morning Anima!’ was our daily morning ritual. It made me smile but also it made me sad. Would he never come up to me and reach out to shake hands and say this most simple of lines by himself? He was the same with everyone else at the unit. He didn’t know how to be any different. Each of us would correct him every single day and again every morning it would be the same performance. But he knew all of our names and which days we did not come in to the centre. And he always seemed so happy.

How does one celebrate a milestone such as an eighteenth birthday for a child who would never become an adult? I stayed away from the party at the unit. It was not easy to stand and watch something that would break anyone’s heart. My partner is perhaps one of the most courageous characters I have come across. She took him shopping, made his favourite dish and was determined to celebrate. I, on the other hand, hung back and tried to keep the tears down as I thought of all the things this child should be out doing but could never hope to do in this lifetime. 

He would never be able to drive and go places on his own. He could never watch movies on his own and movies are his passion. He would never have friends, girlfriends, secrets, fights, love. He would stay a child of seven or eight. Such a beautiful child fated to never grow up. To me, it seemed like a grotesque parody of eternal youth. How does one get through days when thoughts like this render you incapable of feeling that there is a power in the universe that wants only goodness for all? Where is the God that would take a child and do this to him? Where is the God that would write out a living death sentence for his parents? Where is the God that would create so much beauty and then refuse to instil the spark that makes life all it should be? I do not ask for happiness for every child always but to bestow only enough consciousness to know you are missing something but never enough understanding to work your way out of that lack is a gesture that is cruel beyond belief.

And yet if he himself was always happy, why was I railing against fate? Is it not the ultimate aim of every human being to achieve happiness? He seemed perfectly content and perfectly complete in himself. His bursts of anger were usually because he could not communicate his needs effectively. His lashing out physically was because of his inability to cope. And his need to be taught the same thing over and over again was because of seizures that continued despite medication. He stayed detached from everything around him and continued to smile. And when he heard the strains of a favourite film song, he would sing along in utter enjoyment.

For A’s eighteenth birthday, I wish he gets to hear all the music he wants, I wish he gets to watch his favourite heroes in action every single week, I wish he always keeps that glorious smile…