Fearless

When I first realized that Tanner was losing his sight, I was afraid. Afraid that he had a life-threatening illness and that he would be taken from me. I was also afraid his life had changed and he would not be able to cope. I was even afraid he would never meet a girl and fall in love, just because he couldn’t see anymore.

I cried almost every day, sometimes in front of him, sometimes in private. Now, almost six months later, I don’t cry all the time anymore, but I still get sad.

It’s just the little things that make me sad: when he puts his cell phone down on the sofa, then comes back a few minutes later and has to sweep his hands over the sofa because he can’t see it. He can’t always tell what food there is to eat in the fridge or freezer, and sometimes his favorite snacks go uneaten.

I get sad when he watches “King of Queens,” his favorite show, but he doesn’t really watch the TV, he just listens.

One time, he crouched down to pet what he thought was our dog Schatzi, and it was just a pile of stuff that his dad was taking outside.

He can’t read the menus in fast food restaurants, or see the different types of soda when he gets himself something from a fountain machine. Sometimes, his close friends walk right by him and he doesn’t even know they are there.

Through it all, he has had an amazing spirit. “Mom,” he said, “There are people who have it worse than I do.”