Overboard . . .

​Written by Kristine Perchettione mother's view of Autism
Tue, Jun 28, 2011 11:02 pm​

I am dreaming . . . 

My son, Marley, and I are on a ship.  It is so big.  It must be a cruise ship and it seems everyone I know is on the deck.  Everyone.  We aren't doing anything much, I am just showing Marley the water.  I think he will like it, but all of a sudden we are over the railing, falling. I can't stop ourselves from going over the rail.  We are pulled so fast into the water, it is like we were never safely on the boat.

When we hit the water it is harsh, it is dark and cold.  My body stings because we landed wrong.  I am trying to get Marley up to the surface.  I am trying to save us.​He is fighting me.  I don't know if he is fighting to get to the surface or to stay beneath it.  When we get to the top he is screaming and punching me and I think he is raging again.  I'm terrified and want to get out of the water.  I can't control him here and he is going to kill us both.

​Everyone is on deck.  I see them every time we come to the surface.  Everything goes in slow motion.  When we get to the surface and I can see every one so clearly.  They move slowly and seem to laugh at everything.  They shine in the sun.  They seem so calm and peaceful and happy.....so happy.  I need help but I don't want to disturb this bliss it seems that everyone else is enjoying.  I don't want to be the one to stop it.

​We go down again and Marley is clawing and hitting at me.  I think the coral is tearing at my skin but it is Marley.

​All of a sudden we are pulled out of the water and straight in the air.  My relief is stopped short when the finality of our situation hits me.  We didn't make it.  We can never go back to the boat and see anyone.

​We will never get to shine in the sun.

I look at Marley, he is laying on his stomach and his hands are under his chin.  He looks like he did in my favorite childhood photo of him.  He looks at me and gives me the sweetest smile and I think, what if they are right about what happens to us when we die, what if he gets to talk, oh God let him talk, please let him talk.  But he just smiles the sweetest smile and I slide next to him.  To feel him calm, to feel his sweet smile.

​"My sweet handsome boy," I say softly, afraid of what will come next for the millionth time.

​He gazes down and I see everyone we know.  They are leaning over the railing and looking into the water.

​"They want to help us now but it is just too late," he says like he has been talking all his life.

He looks back in my face and slowly repeats the words, "It is just too late."

But all I can think . . .  is his voice is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.