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.
PUBLICATION Freihow, Halfdan W. Somewhere over the sea : a Father’s letter to his autistic son / Halfdan W. Freihow ; Robert Ferguson, translator. Translation of: Kjære Gabriel. Previous titles: Dear Gabriel : letter from a Father ; Dear Gabriel : letter to an autistic son. eISBN 978-1-77089-193-7 1. Freihow, Halfdan W. 2. Autistic children—Biography. 3. Parents of autistic children—Biography. 4. Autistic children—Family relationships. 5. Fathers and sons—Biography. I. Ferguson, Robert II.
heaven? Even though I know that’s a long time off? The question was typical of you: despite the fact that it could only take place in the beyond, and a long time from now, you needed to establish a relationship on your own premises, within your own context, otherwise you would have had problems in distinguishing Granny from the rest of the hubbub. We answered yes to your question, though we’ve no idea whether there is a heaven that welcomes the dead. We answered yes, because sometimes it’s more
stay the night at a friend’s house, having forgotten that I’m away — I have to remind myself that the public out there is expecting to hear about the person you were, not the person you are. Like any other parent, I always think of you as I see you, developing day by day. But many people who know you first and foremost through the description of your problems seem almost to expect you to have stood still, to forever remain that lovely little boy who struggles to understand the world and to be
everything were a church where you were allowed not to understand, not to believe and think, then we would be secure wherever we went. You had a similar idea once yourself, when you were about to go on your ﬁrst class outing and spend the night in an unfamiliar forest and were a bit anxious. Mom and I said we could come with you, but you protested: — I don’t need any grown-ups with me. Jesus can look after me; he can even walk on the water! And then you added, just to be on the safe side: —
simply been given no choice. You know of no other way in which to relate to people; you lack the ability to dissimulate and to understand that there might be another way. It makes you vulnerable in a way most people ﬁnd inconceivable. Moreover, it makes you what people call difﬁcult, because the others don’t always know how to answer you, they don’t understand you, they are unable to escape the suspicion that you are the one who is playing with them, that you, the child, have an inexplicable and