On not looking too hard into the future, when I’ll be gone

An old college friend called last week; she was coming to town, she had an extra ticket to see Billy Elliot on Saturday, and would I like to come? Y-E-S! My sweet husband watched the kids and I headed into New York. I’d seen the movie, I love dance performances, I figured the Broadway show would be completely enjoyable.

It was—the kid playing Billy (there’s a rotating group of five) gave a fantastic performance. There was, of course, lots of amazing dancing. And singing. And a dead mother who kept cropping up to talk to Billy…and who kept distracting me. In one tearjerker scene, Billy reads out loud a letter his mother wrote to him, one that she wrote knowing that she was dying and would never see him grow up.

All of a sudden, I was thinking about what would happen to Max when Dave and I are no longer around.

This is not something I often ponder. In fact, I’d say I hardly ever think about it. For one, it’s difficult to wrap my head around the thought that Max might be an adult who needs care. Also, we have time: Max is seven. While I suspect that he will always need some sort of assistance, because the cerebral palsy gives him so much trouble using his hands, it really is too early too tell.

This is not to say I have my head in the sand. Sometime soon, we plan on getting a Special Needs Trust set up for Max. I’ve definitely thought about how his little sister, already a force of nature already at the age of five, will be helpful to him as he gets older. And if and when we have a third kid, that child will be there for him, too.

Maybe I should give more thought to this, as heavy as it is to ponder. Do you sometimes think about who will be there for your child when you are gone?

I know, a nice, light topic for Monday.

Ellen blogs daily at Love That Max

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