There was a celebration Sunday, and I had to say a few words.  Foolishly, I was unprepared.

Sunday we had a grand party for Ben, a celebration of his graduation from high school.  My father, and all three of my brothers and family, attended.  W, Ben’s mom, had her mother and her three sisters in town for the affair.  Various players from Ben’s academic life — transliterator, DHOH and regular teachers, auditory specialist, tutor — showed up, much to our delight. Ben’s friends and their families were on hand.  Personal friends of mine joined us to share food and drink, reveling in the moment.

That point came in the celebration, as it does in many of life’s moments, when an acknowledgement of the event and its importance to those attending must occur.  Time for a quieting of the crowd, and for someone to say something.  Foolishly, I was unprepared.

Nonetheless, as host with Ben’s mother, we three stood apart and gathered every one’s attention.  Cueing and asking others to cue to some of the deaf guests, I welcomed and thanked all attendees, singling out special people, including the families on both sides, the great education professionals/supporters, and other dear friends.  It was heartfelt, but feel it was not too articulate.  I should have focused on the incredible journey Ben’s made, and the amazing distance he’s traveled in that journey.

The journey from the early traumatic days of his sudden hearing loss at three and half years old, hearing aids and the controversies and choices in deafness.  Quickly identifying the fundamental appeal of Cued Speech — literacy — and deciding that value was dominant.  Learning to cue, attending pre-school events, sending Ben at the age of four on a 45 minute ride to his school!  Eventually deciding on the cochlear implant, committing to the rehabilitation and testing to make it so effective.  Meeting Dr. Cornett, and spending time with the man who invented the literacy system of cueing.  The support and amazing skills of the Montgomery County DHOH professionals, from speech and classroom teachers to transliterators to parent support.  The journey from separate DHOH classroom for pre-school, to mainstreamed with support at the school with cueing, then totally mainstreamed (with transliterators and support) at our local elementary, middle, and high school.

None of this journey did I mention.  I should have been ready for the moment, but somehow in the swirl of the details of the party, it got away from me.  Foolishly, I was unprepared.

Today, running through the woods, rewinding the grand event, I was listening to music.  A song by the Dixie Chicks, Lullaby, struck me.  While it would not have captured the details of Ben’s amazing journey, the lyrics from that song, about a parent’s love of a newborn child, would have captured the essence of what I’d wished I’d said:

They didn’t have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough, is forever enough?
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough?
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

In some sense, life began when I saw Ben’s face.  And a unique life began when Ben lost his hearing.

I’m never, never giving him up.  Nor giving up on him.

How long will Ben be loved?

Is forever enough?  Is forever enough?