My oldest son Max has struggled since the day he was hospitalized a year and a half ago. He had an unexplained seizure, stopped breathing while in the ER and was put on a respirator. He went into the hospital a quick learner of Spanish and English. When he came out a few days later he struggled to speak, resorting to screams as the only means of communication. It was an extremely confusing experience as we felt both joy at having him saved and shock at the changes. When I watch him play with LEGGOS I can see the wheels turning in his head just like before so I feel he understands logic but he is either unable or unwilling to communicate. Susan and I have worked with him, and of course loved him, every day but there has been little improvement with speech. Gradually you begin to accept a new reality. Maybe things will never be like they were before. Earlier this year our one-year-old , Sebastian, started speaking and quickly picked up Spanish and English and I couldn't help but think how similar Max was before the trauma. I read them both children's books which Sebastian laps up like ice cream while Max seems to understand but is unable to respond to simple questions about. I take them out on walks pointing out flowers, birds and airplanes. “What's that?” Sebastian responds enthusiastically “Avion, airplane!”, while his older brother remains silent. I've tried not to give up hope because despite everything he's been through Max is happy, strong and loving. That's worth so much. Today, as I was thinking about how I know in the future I will always reflect on these walks with my sons with fondness. I took a moment and I looked at both of them trying to appreciate they've each been given their own gifts. Max's fate was forever changed by unexplained events on one day. As much as I hate that, I must accept it. I slipped back into Dad mode, I bent over and pointed to the grass, “What color?” and while I was waiting for Sebastian to respond, Max whispered shyly “Gween Dadda”. It was the happiest moment of my life.