Monday, February 18, 2019

Reuniting with Dylan

by taking off the mask (writer), Los Angeles, June 03, 2011

A follow up on "Dylan, My Love". Finally seeing Dylan again.

I missed him more than words could ever describe. I felt like a part of me was over seas, out of my reach, and nothing more than a fond memory. I needed to see his beautiful face again. I thought about him almost everyday, and the thought either left a smile on my face or left me on the verge of tears. When his mother emailed me, saying that if I wanted to visit and stay by them they'd be happy to host me. I booked my flight the next day. My destination of my trip is California but I had to make a week pit stop in New York to see Dylan.

Through out the flight I was nervous and couldn't relax. I couldn't help but fear that he may not remember me, or worse not like me anymore. He is 9 years old and its been nine months since I had last seen him. I am still not exactly sure how the memory of an autistic child works. How should I know if he'd remember me? His brain and ways are so far from my own, it's impossible to really be sure about anything, I could only hope. Two flights later, a stop in Paris, and a taxi ride to the house the moment of truth came. The second I saw him it was like my body automatically went to hug him, without even giving it a thought. He grabbed me closer to him to smell me. I guess he liked the Mango body spray I used after the flight. He giggled and then let me free of his grip. I went to eye level with him and looked him in the eyes. "Dylan, do you remember me?" I asked him hoping he would. His hand went flying and slapped me across the face. I did not expect that. " I guess I deserve that for ditching you" I responded. I was not upset he hit me, but curious for the reason and what it possibly meant. He took me by the arm and led me through the house and to the couch to sit with him. He kept smelling me and giggling. It was cute. He also took my hand and made me scratch his misquotes bites for him. We just sat on the couch like that for around two hours. He changed a lot since the last time I'd seen him. I wish I could say his condition improved but if anything I didn't see any progress but a few setbacks. I was heartbroken to say the least. I only want the best for this child. He deserves the best and nothing less. I also felt guilt for leaving him. His mom told me he hasn't really gotten much attention from the other nannies. I was pissed. How could they not see how lucky they were to have time with this child? He is so sweet and happy most of the time. We usually spend our days around selfish people who are all after the dream life and never just stop to enjoy the simple pleasures. I learned so much in the past from Dylan and loved my time with him (usually).

I moved from next to him and sat near his mom and we spoke about him while observing him. I could hardly reconize him anymore. A part of me was glad to see my feelings dwindled because if they hadn't I don't know how I'd be able to leave him again, especially so soon. I love Dylan and always will. I'm selfishly glad though that G-D let me grow seperate from him and see that I can live my life without feeling I was missing something. Sure I know once I leave this house I will miss him. I know his picture will still always be either in my purse or in my camera, but my heart will be able to move and be used for other friendships and relationships and not so gripped on this one child. It is hard to explain unless you've been in my situation I'm not sure you can understand what I'm talking about. I just know that although I am let down that Dylan and I don't have the same relationship as we did when I left, it is in fact a blessing in disguise.

About the Writer

taking off the mask is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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1 comments on Reuniting with Dylan

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By Barkha Dhar on June 19, 2011 at 05:24 pm

Even if the relationship changes, the memories remain. I am sure your heart shall always be the home to Dylan's memories even though you may not be able to meet him again. An arduous end, but a beautiful begining.

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