A Better World

I hate writing these types of posts.

In the last few weeks the news in the autism world has been searing, overwhelming, impossible to process.

An autistic teen in Ohio has a bucket of feces and urine thrown on him in a cruel prank.

Another autistic teen in Florida is invited to a party where is is beaten and then collapses. He thought they were his friends.

That part gets to me almost as much as what happened to him.

I am sickened when I read these accounts. I recoil from their graphic images imprinted upon my brain, pictures that take immersing myself in my childrens’ worlds to momentarily eradicate them.

These stories summon up my deepest fears, my intermittent nightmares that someone will hurt my boys.

For Zach the fears are a frequent and unwelcome companion. I hold my breath each morning as I shuttle him to school and send my bargaining pleas to the universe to let the children be kind to him. I hope that seven-year-olds will respect his differences, perhaps like him the better for them.

My concerns for Justin extend into later life. His is a cocooned world in which no interaction at present is unsupervised, but I know this won’t last forever. There remains the gaping maw of those forty years after my death which I can’t fill with my presence, the void I try to escape in my thoughts because it is just too damn painful.

Daily my last conscious thoughts are let me live a really, really, long time, and let the world be kind to my sons.

I can’t remain in this land forever however. There is homework to oversee, stories to hear, small wounds that thankfully I can at present bandage with love and care.

When I feel the weight of these events threatening to enfold me, I have to shift my thoughts. I have to choose to remain in the present.

Fortunately where we now dwell as a family is a land where without fail my boys are treated the way they deserve to be treated.

With dignity.

With compassion.

With respect.

My deepest sympathies go out to those two teenagers and their families, and my most profound scorn is reserved for the perpetrators of these horrible crimes.
I mourn for them and mourn for how differently these events could have turned out. If only the boys’ differences were valued and respected, not reviled.

If only.

But I cannot remain here. Instead I choose to think of the myriad kindnesses bestowed upon my boys recently. The aide who bought my eldest boy a toy so he could occupy himself on the bus. The librarians who revel in Zach’s enthusiasm for books and make an effort to direct him to tales which will engross him. The gentle way my friend’s daughter encourages Justin to use the pool. Small acts of kindness that enhance our world, make it work.

They don’t negate the evil. But they help. God, do they help.

My son interrupts my reverie with his latest discovery about Star Wars and I am drawn ever more into the present, where as always he demands and receives my full attention.

And so, my final thoughts are of gratitude. To those who will hopefully bring harsh justice down upon those who acted with much malice in Florida and Ohio. Gratitude for the gentle ways in which so many of the people in my boys’ lives model empathy, kindness, compassion. Gratitude that I am here to witness all of it.

Gratitude for every day I don’t have to write one of these posts.

For more on my family visit my blog at autismmommytherapist.wordpress.com