The Gift of Sight
When I used to think about autism, back when it was a word used to describe someone else’s child, and eventually when our son was first diagnosed, I used to think about the differences.
Autism meant he would be different. And that made me so scared for him. Because I knew the world could be unkind.
I would hyper focus at 3 am or while in the shower on all the ‘nevers.’ The differences. The challenges. The worries that would drop me to my knees.
He may never talk.
He may never ride a bike.
He may never graduate.
He may never get married.
Autism felt like this foreign thing that had been given to my beautiful son. A thing we couldn’t outrun or hide from.
And I so desperately wanted my son to be like everyone else. To have the life that most are guaranteed.
As the years went on, and we settled into autism, our eyes were opened to all the gifts he brought into our lives.
And that differences aren’t always bad. Sometimes, they are amazing and unique and humorous.
And that he was exactly who he was born to be. My amazing son.
The gift that I am most thankful for is the gift of sight.
The ability to see the world, and people, and kindness. To see peoples true meaning. To see if they accept Cooper.
This morning my 8 year old ran to his older brother, knelt down before him, and whispered, ‘I’ll see you at school buddy. I’ll be waiting for you when you get there.’ And then engulfed him in the biggest hug and sloppy kiss.
See, Cooper doesn’t pay much attention to people coming and going from our house. I think because he’s the center of our home and he understands that we will always come back to him. He will be waiting for us.
Sawyer knew he was leaving though. He knew he needed to say goodbye to his older brother even though brother most likely wouldn’t say it back.
This little boy has been given the gift of sight at such a young age. How lucky is he?
I didn’t receive my gift until 28 when I was blessed with Cooper. And even then, I ran from it. I was scared of truly seeing differences and the way the world reacts to them.
Not this kid. He runs towards them and whispers in their ear…’I’ll be waiting for you buddy.’ He is not afraid.
If you need a friend, he will notice.
If you have a physical disability, he will say hi.
And if you get anxious to go to school, he will be there waiting for you.
I may have made a lot is mistakes in my life. But one thing I did right was immerse Sawyer in the world of disability and differences from the very beginning.
He sees. He feels. He anticipates. He loves. He includes. He advocates.
I thank autism for that.
These boys are such a blessing to each other. I can’t wait to see where this world takes them. And no matter where it is, I can promise you that they will be together.
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. Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and join our supporter page, Coop’s Troops, for an amazing community full of support and understanding.
