I took this photo of Conor a few years ago. We were at the beach in Westport, surrounding by families with children “almost” just like mine. The other children were running in and out of the water, splashing and jumping, to play with or avoid the waves. More were building sand castles or collecting shells. Many were sitting on towels and blankets chattering away and eating their snacks.
Conor and I were together physically but mentally he was somewhere else, zoned out playing with sand, throwing it up into the sky, watching so closely as it fell. I felt lonely at times on the beach that day, on my own but not really. Talking “to” Conor but no talk back from Conor. Conor continued to play and I chatted to him, as the roar of the sea coming in and leaving again broke the silence between us.
I realized in that monotonous moment we shared, that Conor was completely at peace with himself, throwing the sand and watching it fall. I love that about him. I have a lot to teach Conor during my time left here on earth but I have even more to learn from him❤️ He kept playing with his sand despite people staring at him, talking about him and I am sure most likely judging him because he is different. He looks different, sounds different (he can’t speak), acts different, is different and he is completely at peace with that.
I wish I could be more like Conor and have his spirit, to be less anxious, less afraid and more brave in moments where I feel not enough.
I love Conor for all he has taught me and for all he will continue to teach me about life while we are on earth here together.
I love you Conor, you are the bravest and most gentle little boy I know.
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