Erin – I can only imagine. I have two boys in their 20’s and I’m never not worried about them.
I think I understand your feelings about photographs. I can look at photos of dead loved ones, but that’s different. Everyone dies. Some way to young. That can be tough.
I’m involved with the disability community here in Berkeley. Mostly with making accessible/usable websites and I believe in Universal Design in all things, places and buildings. Our lives can change drastically in an instant, and I know if something happened to me I would want the world to be ready for me.
I think I read in one of your posts that you work with developmentally disabled kids. Am I right?
I hope your daughter’s remarkable recovery continues to be remarkable.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a rescue, but like a trap. I have photographs of my three beautiful children from the year that the two girls graduated high school and college. In these the trio is laughing clearly enjoying each other and the moments that are, literally, captured. Three months later our lives were upended when one was nearly killed after being hit by a truck and suffered a traumatic brain injury. We, none of us, is the same. She has had a remarkable recovery and continues to do so, but those photos feel like a mockery: everyone happy and blind to the future.
Erin – I can only imagine. I have two boys in their 20’s and I’m never not worried about them.
I think I understand your feelings about photographs. I can look at photos of dead loved ones, but that’s different. Everyone dies. Some way to young. That can be tough.
I’m involved with the disability community here in Berkeley. Mostly with making accessible/usable websites and I believe in Universal Design in all things, places and buildings. Our lives can change drastically in an instant, and I know if something happened to me I would want the world to be ready for me.
I think I read in one of your posts that you work with developmentally disabled kids. Am I right?
I hope your daughter’s remarkable recovery continues to be remarkable.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a rescue, but like a trap. I have photographs of my three beautiful children from the year that the two girls graduated high school and college. In these the trio is laughing clearly enjoying each other and the moments that are, literally, captured. Three months later our lives were upended when one was nearly killed after being hit by a truck and suffered a traumatic brain injury. We, none of us, is the same. She has had a remarkable recovery and continues to do so, but those photos feel like a mockery: everyone happy and blind to the future.