Somewhere Over the Sea: A Father's Letter to His Autistic Son
Halfdan W. Freihow
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In this deeply moving and elegantly written book, Halfdan W. Freihow takes Gabriel, his young autistic son, on a journey through the full spectrum of human experience. With great love, profound tenderness, and gentle wit, Freihow captures Gabriel's triumphs and disappointments, his joy and frustration, while struggling to help him make sense of a world that he himself does not, and cannot, fully comprehend. A powerful, honest, and achingly beautiful narrative, Somewhere Over the Sea describes a complex, loving relationship that is sometimes fraught with misunderstanding, but always bolstered by unconditional love. A must-read for all parents.
house, which you like to call a castle, or a fortress, because kings and princes don’t live in ordinary houses, do they? Victoria lies half asleep on the sofa in front of the television. She doesn’t want to come; she’s waiting for her boyfriend. Apparently the same one as yesterday and the day before, so it’s probably serious. Mom has a meeting straight after work and won’t be coming until later. In the fridge I ﬁnd the chops I was hoping for, and even a bottle of white wine behind the
demonstrate. — Why did you say that, Dad? — Well . . . I don’t know . . . because. I fumble and hesitate, for sometimes I need the small words, the seconds it takes to ﬁnd an answer, to work out a strategy that will take your curiosity and confusion seriously without opening one of those endless why-discussions that don’t get us anywhere, because you respond to all my answers with new questions. — I was just joking, I say. Right then it’s the best answer I can come up with. — Just joking!
expedition, I meant inspection. You’re quite right, we’re not going off exploring, there’s no treasure hidden in the boathouse, is there? What I meant was, let’s take a torch and something to drink and go on an inspection, make sure everything’s all right. Maybe we’ll have to put on a whole new roof, what do you think? You look at me with your very open eyes, just above and to the left of mine, a gaze so huge and at the same time so distant that I can’t grasp it and don’t know what it is you’re
for you to feel included. This time you have, uneventfully, but also with no apparent pleasure or understanding of the point of it, marched in the morning procession and carried the ﬂag from school to church. Afterwards we’ve been to town and bought a cap gun, ice cream, and a sausage roll. Now we’re going to school, where there will be speeches and games and competitions. You and your schoolmates have shot your way through most of your ammunition, and because everybody else is, you too want to
conﬁrm that you’ve understood. — Ready . . . Steady . . . The crack comes so suddenly and unexpectedly that you need a moment to compose yourself. But you feel the thrust of my hand on your back, hear the cheering from the sidelines, and see that the others are off. You stride out, you run like you’ve never run before, narrow-eyed and determined. You run to win, to get that medal, to show them, and then . . . you look around and see that you’re all alone, that there’s just you and the gravel