Post by earendil on Sept 5, 2014 8:32:09 GMT
He is not Pinocchio
"Try and put it into perspective; they were never really yours. And you only met them once."
Thank you for telling me to try and put it into perspective. I will now try and put it into perspective.
Imagine the best book you ever read, with your absolute favourite character. A really well written book, by your favourite author. Imagine. Remember.
Think about that character. Why do you like that character? You like that character because it is well rounded, well developed. There is just enough description and back story for you to construct that character to become a living being in your mind. Sure, you will never meet that character. But it feels real to you.
Now think back to times you have been reading a really, really good book and to those times where your favourite character was in peril. You know this author has a habit of playing with characters, killing them off, deleting them even. How many times have you gasped, felt real emotion at the incredible, amazing trials, perils and tribulations of that person that you have grown to love, how many times have you turned the page with trembling fingers, your heart almost stopping at the fear and worry of what you might read.
Now imagine that you have in your hands an 80 page 'book.' It isn't particularly well written. In fact, it's littered with typos, much of it has been cut and pasted so names and genders are wrong, but it is 80 pages and it contains the life STORY of the boy that you hope will one day call you 'Daddy.'
Imagine reading of their incredible and amazing trials, perils and tribulations. Gasp as you turn the page. Feel your heart almost stop with fear and worry about what you might read next.
Except this is not fiction. This is true. You are reading about a real boy, a real boy with real emotions, who is not some puppet made some mad lonely old man in a fairytale, he is not a Pinocchio. He is a real live boy.
This might be the boy that falls over and cuts his knee and you have to patch it up for him. The boy that is caught out on his first batting. The boy that dropped his birthday cake and cried all day, the boy who was caught stealing flowers from somebody else's garden, because it was Father's Day and he hadn't bought you anything and he was feeling guilty. Yes, he might be the boy that one day turns to the doctor and sob, "You've done all you can. We think you should turn it off."
Read that 'story.'
Read about his life, how gut-wrenchingly awful it has been. Imagine the fear and terror.
Now watch a DVD of him. Watch it over and over.
Now meet him and play with him all day. In real life, not in your stupid best book ever, but actually in the flesh, warm, vital.
Vulnerable.
Now go to a panel of twelve people and justify why you think you are capable of taking on this human life as part of your family?
Now have someone call you and say he might not be yours after all. At the very best there will be a delay of four months. At the worst, he will not become part of your family.
And now have a friend say "Try and put it into perspective; they were never really yours. And you only met them once."
Let me put my grief into perspective for you; he is real to me. He is my son.
He is not Pinocchio.
"Try and put it into perspective; they were never really yours. And you only met them once."
Thank you for telling me to try and put it into perspective. I will now try and put it into perspective.
Imagine the best book you ever read, with your absolute favourite character. A really well written book, by your favourite author. Imagine. Remember.
Think about that character. Why do you like that character? You like that character because it is well rounded, well developed. There is just enough description and back story for you to construct that character to become a living being in your mind. Sure, you will never meet that character. But it feels real to you.
Now think back to times you have been reading a really, really good book and to those times where your favourite character was in peril. You know this author has a habit of playing with characters, killing them off, deleting them even. How many times have you gasped, felt real emotion at the incredible, amazing trials, perils and tribulations of that person that you have grown to love, how many times have you turned the page with trembling fingers, your heart almost stopping at the fear and worry of what you might read.
Now imagine that you have in your hands an 80 page 'book.' It isn't particularly well written. In fact, it's littered with typos, much of it has been cut and pasted so names and genders are wrong, but it is 80 pages and it contains the life STORY of the boy that you hope will one day call you 'Daddy.'
Imagine reading of their incredible and amazing trials, perils and tribulations. Gasp as you turn the page. Feel your heart almost stop with fear and worry about what you might read next.
Except this is not fiction. This is true. You are reading about a real boy, a real boy with real emotions, who is not some puppet made some mad lonely old man in a fairytale, he is not a Pinocchio. He is a real live boy.
This might be the boy that falls over and cuts his knee and you have to patch it up for him. The boy that is caught out on his first batting. The boy that dropped his birthday cake and cried all day, the boy who was caught stealing flowers from somebody else's garden, because it was Father's Day and he hadn't bought you anything and he was feeling guilty. Yes, he might be the boy that one day turns to the doctor and sob, "You've done all you can. We think you should turn it off."
Read that 'story.'
Read about his life, how gut-wrenchingly awful it has been. Imagine the fear and terror.
Now watch a DVD of him. Watch it over and over.
Now meet him and play with him all day. In real life, not in your stupid best book ever, but actually in the flesh, warm, vital.
Vulnerable.
Now go to a panel of twelve people and justify why you think you are capable of taking on this human life as part of your family?
Now have someone call you and say he might not be yours after all. At the very best there will be a delay of four months. At the worst, he will not become part of your family.
And now have a friend say "Try and put it into perspective; they were never really yours. And you only met them once."
Let me put my grief into perspective for you; he is real to me. He is my son.
He is not Pinocchio.
