Hold Me

July 4th, 2024

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change in the presence of fate, is strength undefeatable.” – Helen Keller

I hold Asher a lot. So does my wife. Karin and I are Asher’s grandparents and legal guardians. The boy is three and a half years old. Most of the time, Asher is active, curious, talkative, imaginative, and all the other things that a little boy should be. He can be frightfully independent. Asher is usually confident to the point of cockiness.

And then, sometimes he’s not.

He can suddenly be scared or sad or tired, and he then will confront me and demand,

“Hold me.”

I almost always do. Someone has to do that. Asher has had more than his fair share of trauma in his young life. He was born nine weeks early during the height of Covid. He spent his first four weeks in a hospital NICU. Asher’s father abandoned him shortly after his birth. Asher’s mother has been going in and out of his life repeatedly due to recurring health issues. It’s been a rough start.

Asher has two pillars of stability in his life: Karin and me. That’s it. There is nobody else at this point. We’re old, and these two pillars are crumbling a bit. However, he depends on us for his safety and security. It’s hard on the boy, and it us sometimes a struggle for my wife and me. We try to provide him with some sense of order, and some type of routine. That is difficult. Other factors tend to bring an element of chaos into our lives, and we all have to deal with that.

Admittedly, Asher has it much better than many other children in the world. I need only to think of the little kids in Sudan, Ukraine, or Gaza. We have all the basic necessities in our home, and more besides. Asher does not suffer from material deprivation. He does not need to fear for his own life or the lives of those he loves. Yet, in some ways, he still suffers.

Asher is very concerned about things being done a certain way. To feel safe, he needs to have many small things remain the same. Asher needs to eat out of his lion bowl. He needs to cut his waffle with a specific knife and fork. He only wants to wash his hands in the bathroom sink. There are myriad tiny details that make up his life, and they are all important to him.

Our youngest son got divorced this week. It was a shock to everyone, especially to him. His wife’s announcement that she wanted to leave him had all the subtlety of a lightning bolt. Things suddenly changed for our son, and for everyone who knows him. As Stefan said, “There is collateral damage.” He has had to move back into our home, albeit temporarily. All this has upended our homelife, and Asher has noticed. Why is his uncle living here? Why does Asher need to sleep in a different bedroom? The boy has all sorts of questions with no good answers.

Several days ago, Asher had a meltdown. I don’t know what caused it. I don’t know if there was any particular trigger. All I know is that things got crazy very quickly. Asher started crying and screaming and would not, or could not, stop. I picked him up. He continued to cry. His piercing voice stabbed at my right eardrum. Karin tried to hold him. Asher wouldn’t let her. She tried all the usual bribes: a YouTube video about Paw Patrol, ice cream, a new toy. Nothing stooped the shrieking. I tried to put him down. He cried out,

“NO! Don’t put me down! Hold me!”

I did, for over half an hour. The boy clung to me for dear life. He would not let me sit. I stood in the kitchen while he wailed.

Eventually, the emotional storm passed. Asher wore himself out. His cries grew weaker, and he ever so slowly relaxed in my arms. He permitted me to sit down in a chair. I cradled him in my arms. The tension in his body ebbed away. His breathing became more regular. He fell asleep.

We took Asher to our pediatrician two days ago. He found nothing physically wrong with the boy. He gave us a referral to a counselor for children. We will follow up on that. I don’t know if it will help.

Asher is experiencing the struggles of life at a tender age. I can’t fix that. I can’t heal all that needs to be healed. I can’t keep Asher safe forever.

There is a song from Vampire Weekend called “Hold You Now”. The final verse says,

“I can’t carry you forever, but I can hold you now.”

I can hold him now.