I am the voice he doesn’t have, the legs he cannot use.
Even though he doesn’t call, I answer. What Mother wouldn’t?
His personality is there, just hard to find. He’s funny and stubborn. He gets mad when I mess with his hair. He’s also gentle, sweet and quirky.
He’s sixteen, handsome and very much like a nine month old baby. His diaper needs changing, his meal hand fed.
He is very aware of sounds in the house, Sponge Bob Square Pants, my moods. Barely aware of “real” life.
I will literally love and care for him until the day I die, if my bones or brain don’t give out first. 😉