Thank You to the People Who See My Son

I want to thank the people who see my son.

The people who ask how he is doing.

Who on a Facetime say, ‘Let me see the boys. And Cooper too.’ Because while Sawyer and Harbor are demanding to talk and be seen, Cooper is not.

Thank you to the people who wave to him on the street and say hi without needing a response.

Who talk to him, even though they know he won’t answer back.

Who aren’t afraid of his protesting at the park and instead ask him a question. Or point out an airplane or a butterfly.

Thank you to the people who come to our house and after greeting the two little boys jumping up and down say, ‘Where’s Snoopy?’

And actually go find him.

These are the persistent people.

I could say they are the people who love Cooper. But it’s so much more than that. Way more.

These are the people who value him as a person. And want to enter his world.

They think he is amazing and interesting and want to know him.

These are the people who sit by him on the floor. And then the couch. And then back to the floor again. Moving with him.

The people who enter his world.

And by enter, I mean lovingly force their way in.

Because you and I both know the relationship is one sided. But these people don’t care. They seek him out. They care about him.

They work for it. They push their way in.

They ask to see his trains. And hear his songs.

They touch his books and his things, oohing and ahhing at their beauty.

They ask for hugs and maybe even steal a little touch now and then.

A high five, knuckles, a shoulder squeeze, even a tickle.

I want to thank the people who believe in him. Who say positive things about him. Who ask questions. Who acknowledge his quirks, challenges and wins.

I just want to say thank you. You know who you are.

It means everything to me. The whole world and more.

For so long, when we were in the really hard years, people stopped asking about him. Or if they did ask about him, a social worker or teacher, it often felt clinical, or negative. I felt like we talked about his weaknesses.

I remember the first time someone said to me, ‘Cooper is amazing.’ And she kept saying it. Every time I saw her.

‘Cooper is the best.’

‘Cooper is so smart.’

I remember being shocked. I was trained for so long to believe that he was challenging. And challenging only. And I felt like I was the only one that knew how truly amazing he was.

Someone saw it. It meant everything to me.

I understand why people stopped asking me about him. I think it was too hard for a lot of years. People just didn’t know what to say.

I get that.

But I felt like he sorta disappeared from the world outside of our home.

And that broke my heart.

Here is my hope…

If you are a grandparent, aunt, uncle, cousin, or friend to a child with a disability, ask about them. Ask what they are doing well. What’s new. And what’s hard.

And if you visit, say hi. Like really say hi. Get down on their level. Even if it’s just for a second.

Who cares if they don’t answer back. Don’t be embarrassed. Just talk to them like you’d talk to anyone else.

THEY HEAR YOU. And mom and dad will love you for it.

And maybe, just maybe, someday they will answer you back.

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.