Garret turns on the keyboard, turns to look at me and says, " Ah, ah!" He wants me to play one of the 40 recorded music selection that he likes. I take a wild guess and press number 11-- Beethoven's Fleur de lis. He smiles his angelic smile where his eyes are all crinkled and twinkling, grabs a chair and listens to the notes intently. At other times, I cannot guess what music he likes to hear, but most of the times it is as if our minds are one and the same.
Just like any other facets of his autism, we've developed a coping mechanism to understand his language. Our senses are on full alert to his gestures, body language, routines and our memory bank constantly on the go all the time. We have yet to fully integrate pictures to augment his language. In the meantime we are masters of his language. We have our own way of communicating. But of course, when our memory fails us, and simply when we do not understand what he wants, what his "ah-ah" means, when his gestures and body language fail him, the inevitable happens. He gets anxious. He becomes frustrated at us. At himself perhaps? He gets frustrated with the fact that we can't understand what he wants. We get frustrated that we sometimes forget his routine. Then the tantrums come.
Slowly and painfully, we are realizing that while there is still hope that he may be able to speak like his typically developing peers, we have to take further steps to make communication easier for him. Easier for all of us. We have to break down the walls of beliefs that the only language is one that can be conveyed through spoken communication.
Children with autism learn best through pictures. They are visual learners. Because their brain processes input from pictures easier--it simply sticks in the memory. Come to think of it, we, the "normal" ones would say this is pure common sense. After all, we would always prefer visual proofs rather than narratives of our recent travels or our day-to day experiences. Thus, with the advent of technology, we then upload pictures through email and of course, Facebook.
For our kids with autism, however, this need is simply more pronounced. This is their basic need. This is how they learn. This is how they communicate. This is how they are wired. This is how they live. And this is how they must be understood. Therefore we must find ways to make their world as they live in ours easier, more intelligible, more comprehensible. With the use of pictures, they can communicate better, we, parents can communicate better, and perhaps eventually find a way to make our love be known and be understood by them.
In reflection, deep down, beyond all the scientific research and facts, beyond all the questions of why? why autism? why Garret? why us? beyond all understanding, beyond all confusion and despair, I know that there is a great purpose to all of this.
Maybe it is this:
What we have been given, Garret with his autism, is a gift that is mysterious at best. As we expand our way of thinking and use up all our emotional resources to communicate with our child, maybe God is telling us--that when we love-- there is no other way to do it but to give everything of ourselves.
To understand Garret, we must not only listen with our ears, considering how the words he chooses to say or what his brain allows him to say is limited, to say the least. We must learn to listen with our eyes, see him, look at his face, see his gestures, discern his postures, observe his jitters, see how he is restless, see when he is comfortable and at ease.We have learn to look with his eyes.
We must learn to listen with our hands, our sense of touch, when he is trembling with fear or when he is feverish from a bout of flu, or when he begs to be carried, embraced and cuddled because there is no other way for him to tell us of his loneliness or sadness and we have to be sensitive and respond to him. It does not matter if it would take hours to embrace him. We have to drop everything else just to make him feel, he is loved, safe and secure. This is what listening is all about.
To know what makes him happy, we must learn to break down our traditional ways of perceiving, enter his world and play with him. Revel in what he is fascinated with, whether it is lining up cars, playing only with one color of pegs, being excited with the light passing through the giant acacia trees, or birds flying in one line in the sky. Only then, can we give him true joy.
We must learn to understand even through our sense of taste, to try his favorite crispy foods and to actually enjoy it ourselves, and to better understand his picky sense of taste and not enforce our own preferences on him.
To love our child, we must use all of ourselves- we have to communicate with him using all our senses. There is no room for half-finished, multi-tasking feats. We have to be there for him completely. We have to love him with all our mind, heart, body and soul. To love Garret, we must lose ourselves, buckle our knees, raise our arms to the heavens and surrender. To love our child, we must surrender.
And maybe, just maybe when we come into total surrender in our love for him, miracles will happen.
But in the end, it does not matter anymore if he will be able to speak and tell us what number of music selection he likes to listen to on the keyboard. What matters is that we have a language that can communicate our love for him. A language that he understands-- a love of total surrender. This is our language.
Perhaps this is the great purpose of autism, of everything that has transpired--for us to learn that there is no other way to love our beautiful son but to love with total surrender. This is the true language of love.
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