Some Good Things Never Last. But Great Things Await us...

We were visiting Papa Ching's grave a few days ago, Garret, Morgan, Andro and I. When the candles were lit, as expected, Garret was excited. The flickering and dancing of the flames just stimulated him so much he was jumping up and down hands flipping and flapping. We prayed for a little while. Morgan was walking around the newly trimmed grounds and finally stopping to sit at his favorite bench. After a few minutes, we decided it was time to go. "Ok, Garret let's go." He adamantly refused, "Ah!" coupled with a furious stomp of his feet. "Uh-oh", I thought to myself, knowing what comes next.

Waiting. Turn-taking. Impulse Control. Attention Span. Rigidity. Challenged Adaptability. These are just some of the issues we deal with everyday. Minute details it maybe for other parents. One silent glare or a reprimand may be enough for their kids to be compliant. But for us, it consumes our day. Most often than not, we are left exhausted. Our verbal reprimands are not enough. It has to be paired with physical control-- literally manipulating their hands to keep to themselves or to keep them from running off. And still, we do not know if they truly understand, if we have somehow made some sense in their world.

Sometimes, when light bursts through, when our kids are miraculously able to wait inside the car while papa is buying something from the pharmacy, we are ecstatic. A milestone achieved. One little achievement that means the entire world to us. When our child agrees without argument that it's time to go home and we have to pull him out of the mall when he was so enjoying watching the escalator run up and down with so much pleasure, and he goes with us without so much as an intense-energy reaction, we are relieved. We call for a celebration. And every single time this happens, we hope against hope that it will always be like this. We cherish this particular moment because we know that maybe tomorrow, the "good waiting" and "good following" won't be so good anymore.

This is where Autism is the most difficult for us. As much as our children require routine and consistency, the turn of events in real life are far from routine. The real world offers only change--the only thing constant. And we in turn have to constantly battle protecting our children from abrupt changes or most importantly prepare them for it. Still, there are times when there is no time left to prepare them. And this is where the tantrums and meltdown come. And our hearts get broken every single time. The walls are shot up and we cannot penetrate through them. We are then taught by our therapists and teachers to be firm and not give in. I've said this many times over-- easier said than done. But necessary. For our own sanity. but most importantly for our child to learn, just like any normal kid.

My mom came for a visit more than a week ago. And in one of our conversations, she confided in me how she saw Garret as being behind this thin wall or barrier of some sort from the rest of us. "He's a beautiful, wonderful, mischievous and smart boy.", she told me. " If only this barrier can be broken down..." I nodded with my heart and soul. She didn't need to finish her sentence.

Elaine Hall said, "We, parents of kids with special needs are the lucky ones. Our kids may never attend the best private schools or elite universities, but we can find a miracle in every one of their accomplishments, however small or great." This is the truth that we strive to live with everyday-- to be grateful for all the little things. But our stories sometimes tell the contrary-- the moments do come when we just break down and say to our children, to nobody in particular, to the walls surrounding us, to the universe perhaps, "I'm so tired. Why can't you just wait? For one second, can't you just behave?" I know I've been through my breaking point when I asked my little prince, "Maluoy tawn ka nako Garret." (Can you please give me a break, even if it's just one minute, Garret?) And of course, he doesn't understand what I'm trying to say. His world doesn't allow him to. And maybe he is also trying to tell me in his own way, " Mama, I am desperately trying to tell you something. Why can't you understand?"

Our afternoon routine includes driving around the city . During the drive, there are certain places Garret absolutely does not like to go to or rather turns he does not want the driver to make. When he's set that we drive straight down the road, he complains rather loudly when we make that particular turn. As to why? I have no idea. But it certainly makes sense to my little boy. He gives a quick scream with a quick slap on my arm. So every single time we are nearing the turn, I soothe him, " It's ok to that we pass this way, Garret, Ok?" I repeat this over and over. Several times, it works. He understands and controls himself from reacting intensely. These are the times I celebrate. We won over rigidity this time.

I remember when a new mall was built in our city, we first drove by it and told Garret, " Look Garret, it's a nice place. Let's go inside next time, okay?" Yes, new places don't suit him well. At first, anyway. The next time, we just drove around the parking lot letting him feel the new surroundings. Naturally, he complained. Again loudly, " Ah!, Ah!" " It's okay, we're just driving around. We'll go in next time." Finally the next time arrived. With Morgan tagging along carried by his caregiver, Garret was a bit confused. He didn't know if he wanted to go in or to remain outside. So his caregiver carried him, all the while we were comforting him that the new place is okay. While I did my groceries, he just stayed just outside the grocery and took in the place-- the smells, the sights, the sounds, the feel of glass- everything. Let's just say that the rest now is history. Whenever we go now to our mall, he runs ahead leaving us behind.

He immediately goes to the escalator and gazes at the moving machine as it goes up and then goes down. He runs around and squeals in delight. The people around usually find him adorable. Some find it annoying that he bumps people in his excitement. But when I see him being in this happy place, the rest of the world seems all like a blur. There is only Garret grinning. And that's all that matters. Of course sooner or later, the bubble starts to burst when we decide that it's time to go home. We walk on ahead and call after him, " Let's go Garret." Of course he doesn't go without a fight. Naturally. During these times, we have no choice but to carry him. This time, his papa carries him on his shoulders. He loves this. We hope it distracts him or makes him momentarily forget that we took him away from his favorite escalators. He still whines and complains. His reaction subsides eventually when we reach our vehicle and drive away. Whew! I draw a big breath, glad this episode is over. In the end, I always remind myself that we had a good time. Garret enjoyed his day. We had a good day, not a perfect day, but a good day. And that is enough for us.

With all that has happened for the past week or so, our life was far from routine. Changes had to take place and we are now undergoing major adjustments. For Garret most especially. He copes with it the best way he can. We cope with it the best way we can. There are very difficult moments. But there are also miraculous, wonderful breakthroughs. Some good things never last indeed. Then I realize that maybe these changes had to occur for Garret and for our family so GREAT things can come into play. As much as we struggle everyday with rigidity, challenged adaptability, impulse control, more so with unexpected changes in his routine- with the people around him, I know I have come to terms that this is part of who Garret is--- what Autism has brought into our lives. Both a blessing and a burden. But bearing into mind that the burdens we face only make us stronger. Garret needs US to break down this barrier that separates his world from his. I'm optimistic that yes, the barrier can be broken down. We just need to take that extra step, to exert that extra effort, to give even the last ounce of strength we have for him, so we can understand what he is desperately trying to tell us. So that we can make him understand and maybe we can calm his thoughts and regulate his senses to finally be able to adapt to this constantly changing world. But most importantly, so that we can let him understand how much we truly, truly love him. Because, in the end, great things-- love, perseverance, acceptance, await us. Our journey with Garret and his Autism may be the greatest thing that happened to us.