Daniel Gottlieb - Letters to Sam: A Grandfathers Lessons on Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life

Letters
to Sam

______

A G RANDFATHER S L ESSONS ON
L OVE , L OSS, AND THE
G IFTS OF L IFE

Daniel Gottlieb

New Youk / London
www.starlingpublishing.com

Authors proceeds from the sale of this book are being donated to Cure Autism Now. For more information, visit www.cureautismnow.org.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Published by Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.
387 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016
2006 by Daniel Gottlieb
Distributed in Canada by Sterling Publishing
c/o Canadian Manda Group, 165 Dufferin Street
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M6K 3H6
Distributed in the United Kingdom by GMC Distribution Services
Castle Place, 166 High Street, Lewes, East Sussex, England BN7 1XU
Distributed in Australia by Capricorn Link (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
P.O. Box 704, Windsor, NSW 2756, Australia

Manufactured in the United States of America
All rights reserved

Sterling ISBN-13: 978-1-4027-2883-9 (hardcover)

ISBN-10: 1-4027-2883-2

Sterling ISBN-13: 978-1-4027-5345-9 (paperback)

ISBN-10: 1-4027-5345-4

For information about custom editions, special sales, premium and corporate purchases, please contact Sterling Special Sales Department at 800-805-5489 or specialsales@sterlingpublishing.com.

To my precious grandson Sam and
all the Sams in the world.
May their vulnerability open our hearts
so that they can find care and
we can find compassion.

Letters
to Sam

Dear Reader,

When my precious grandson was born on May 25, 2000, my heart was filled with joy and love. Every grandparent knows these feelings and the special bond that, if we are lucky enough, we can share with a grandchild.

But in the years since Sams birth, he and I have forged a bond with a difference.

You see, when Sam was born, I was a fifty-three-year-old man who had been a quadriplegic for twenty years. Thats a long time to live with quadriplegia, as it takes quite a toll on ones body. I have been ill many times and, over the last couple of years, severely ill. So I didnt know if I would be lucky enough to have our relationship blossom over this many years. I didnt know if I would have the time to tell Sam all the things Id observed from the unique perspective of my wheelchair.

My perspective is unusual for another reason: I have been practicing my craft of psychology for thirty-five years. I have watched people suffer, move on, and grow from the experience, while others have lived their lives stuck in their own pain. I have watched people confront their demons and open their hearts to estranged family members. They have taught me a great deal about courage, longing, and what it means to be human.

And it has been my luck to have other perspectives as well. During the last twenty years I have been hosting a psychology call-in radio show, Voices in the Family, broadcast from Philadelphias NPR affiliate. I have heard tens of thousands of voices describe what they wish for, what they struggle with, and what theyve mastered. Also, for the last ten years, I have been writing a column for the Philadelphia Inquirer and receiving dozens of letters every week from readers who want to share their thoughts and experiences.

Books taught me a bit about psychology. But paralysis taught me to sit still and keep my ears and heart open so I could listen.

From the moment that Sam was born, I knew I wanted to tell him about life and love and what it means to have parents who are vulnerable human beings. I wanted him to know about school. To see how important friends are and how mean they can be. I wanted to tell him about drugs and sex and romance and work and money and everything else.

I also wanted him to know me.

So thats how I started out these letterswanting to tell Sam all of these things and more. I realized, of course, that it might be many years before he would have any genuine interest in what his grandfather wrote to him. But when I started these letters, I felt confident thatone way or anotherSam would someday read them.

Then, that expectation changed.

When Sam was just under two years old, his parents and I discovered that he showed signs of autism, the brain disorder that radically changes how a person perceives the world and relates to othersa disability that would change Sams life. The discovery was heartbreaking for his mother, my child. I wept for her, not only because she was my child, but because she had already spent her childhood living with disability, and now she would spend the rest of her life living with it. And I wept for Sam. But I realized that I had even more now to tell him. Now I also wanted him to understand what it means to be different from everybody else. I wanted to teach him what Ive learned about fighting against the kind of adversity that I face almost daily and that I fear he will face in his life. And I wanted to tell him how peace comes to us when we simply stop fighting.

Most of all, I wanted to tell Sam about love. I wanted him to know that Andrew Lloyd Webber got it right when he said, Love changes everything. I wanted him to be fully loved and to savor every sensation that love elicits. And I wanted him to understand that as he gets older, giving love may be even more important than receiving it.

But in light of his autism, I had to wonder whether any of my words, wishes, expressions of love and observations on life would be meaningful to him. Autism takes many forms, and for any child in its hold, the future is unpredictable. If it turned out that Sam had the severest form, he might never be able to read or even comprehend what I wanted to communicate to him.

When Sam was first diagnosed, he had stopped babbling and was effectively mute. Over the next year and a half, he would bang his head on the floor when he got frustrated and would scream when he heard certain sounds. So I wondered: would he ever be able to read his grandfathers letters? But even though I had to ask that question, it did not deter me from writing on. Regardless of the extent of his disability, I had to tell my story and I had to express my love and devotion to this child. So, with hope as my constant companion, I almost assumed he would get the love and lessons I was trying to communicate. What concerned me far more was the possibility that I wouldnt have time to write all that I wanted to say.

And now, as it has turned out, I have been given that time.

Every chapter in this book is a letter to Sam. Some are stories about my life. Most are stories about what Ive learned. All are stories about what it means to be human.

Dear Sam,

My life was changed the moment you were born. But your mothers life, my childs life, was changed even more.