Hi Dad

Having a child with autism under your roof hones your senses in a way that few imagine possible. One of the things that changes is that you can spot another person with autism a mile away. There are various and sundry nuances to the way a person with autism will hold their head, react to a touch, walk, talk, make a noise....it really is uncanny. Kerry and I have been in the supermarket and she will prick her ears up at a noise made one aisle over and say to me, "That person has autism". Sure enough, when we turned the corner, there would be a person holding their head at the precise angle or moving their thumb and forefinger together in a way as to suggest that they are counting imaginary money. One of the key signs is the avoidance of eye contact. A person with autism will most of the time answer a question posed to them as if they are being distracted from some unseen attraction that commands their attention...physically in this world and yet, mentally, engrossed in some other world that is far removed and distant. People who are not intimate with this disease have no idea how much Dustin Hoffman deserved that Academy Award he won for 'Rainman'.

The hardest part of finding out that your child has autism is the death of all of the hopes and dreams and expectations that had unknowingly taken root in your heart the minute that child arrived in your life. You have to learn to say goodbye to that child and start learning to love the child that you have...and yet...somewhere behind that unseen and impenetrable wall...you have an inkling...a hope that the child you thought you had is still waiting there...biding time until the day when The Great God will make all things right and you will enjoy him as he really is, unfettered and free of all mental restraints.

Fortunately, for Kerry and I, Heavenly Father has given us brief glimpses into what this will be like. It's happened to each of us at different times and in different ways but we've each had the opportunity to briefly meet and converse with our son when he has been completely free of his autism.

For me, the occurrence happened about ten years ago when I was recuperating from my accident. Kerry had gone off to the store with John-Ross and Sarah and Daniel and I were at home by ourselves. I was busy with some project at my desk and Daniel was in the room watching television.

As I worked, I slowly became aware of a different feeling in the room....almost the way you become aware that the weather has suddenly changed outside. It was very subtle but very palpable.

I looked up from my work and into the eyes of my son. Everything about his visage had changed. The ever-present grin that is so endearing and yet, so indelibly reminiscient of a person with mental illness was gone. It was replaced with the calm serenity of a person who is completely confident and free of any remorse or regret. The eyes that would only briefly meet mine now locked onto me and seemed to penetrate deep into the depths of my soul.

There was a moment of silence as it dawned upon me that I was looking at my son, completely free of the prison that had held his mind and kept him away from me.

"Hi Dad"

I was afraid to speak for fear that anything on my part would shatter the moment and so Daniel and I stood locked in each other's gaze until I finally said, "Hello son.".

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not crazy"

"I know you're not"

"Good"


And with the utterance of those words...he was gone...The crooked smile returned to his face and his eyes clouded over and my son retreated back behind that wall that he had briefly pierced. Gone to a place where I could not follow.

One day, the wall will be forever torn down. The prison doors will be flung open and I will again see him as he truly is, majestic, unblemished, unfettered...divine. And he will retreat no more to a place where I cannot follow. I will bask in his company and learn to love him all over again...and I will have to say goodbye to the son I have now.

How I will miss him.