There are many aspects of parenting a non-verbal child with autism that I take for granted. Things that are “normal” in my home are far from ordinary to those who live outside our walls.

I’ve mentioned my son’s excited screeches and claps and how they fill the air in the room, often drowning out the television. My daughter and I have become immune to these sounds and a simple flick of the closed captioning button can solve the problem. This seemingly major issue is barely noticeable to us.

To others, however, the chaotic noise can be maddening. I get it and, as his dad, I don’t take that lightly. I try to be courteous to others in public and remember that his screeches are different in a quiet theater than they are in our living room. I want people to see the best in him and when his calling out is inappropriate, I try to make sure he doesn’t disturb others.

It’s a tough line to walk. After all, as I mentioned earlier, it’s barely noticeable for us. Autism, in our home, is nothing new. It’s part of our lives. When someone new comes along with questions and observations, that’s when I’m reminded of how unique it truly is.

The questions people ask are perhaps the biggest reminder of this fact. Someone new, unaware of Lucas’s life and how we fit in it, will timidly approach with an inquiry. In an almost troubled tone, their voice will shake as they say:

I want to ask you something. I hope I don’t offend you. I’m sorry if it does…

My ears perk up. It’s like when someone tells you a story and, right before a key moment, asks your ethnicity. That’s when you know something juicy is coming.

When it comes to Lucas, though, I’ve learned that it’s never something actually offensive. It’s usually a question that is far from controversial or confrontational. In fact, it almost always comes from a place of kindness and curiosity.

If he’s non-verbal, how does he tell you the things he wants?

Yay. I love this question for so many reasons.

First, it’s a basic foundation of raising Lucas that so few people really know. It’s one of the building blocks of his communication. To know how we converse is to understand how he sees the world. Answering this is one of the main reasons I write this blog. When they ask, I am thrilled to tell them.

Secondly, I know that this is something they may have always wondered about. Seeing a non-verbal child or one with “severe” autism in a supermarket from afar, they might try to catch side glances for fear of offending. Without a person like me, willing to share answers, they might never truly grasp what makes a boy like mine tick or, worse, create their own scenario. By sharing our story, I feel I am doing my part to help the world know who Lucas is and why he’s so wonderful.

The third reason I love when they ask this is the most inward of them all. It’s because, for me, the concerns I have for Lucas are pretty deep. I wonder where he will be in ten years. I worry about the places he will end up, what he will do, and how he will transition into adulthood. I ask myself about his happiness or if he truly understands the role I play in his life. My worries are substantial.

So when they ask something that, to me, is basic, I breathe a happy sigh of relief. For a dad who struggles with many unanswerable questions as it relates to my son, knowing how to reply to one with absolute certainty is like winning a prize.

So, how does my son communicate? There are a few ways. The main way is his communication device. This special iPad has a full menu of items, emotions, needs, and syntax to construct all his sentences. A good amount of his schooling focuses on navigating this tablet and increasing his receptive language. The more words he knows, the more apt he will be to express them through the swiping and tapping of his screen.

I also use parental intuition fairly well with him. I explain it as having a friend across the room during a boring business meeting. One look can tell you everything you need to know. A glance from my boy can speak volumes when verbal language isn’t readily available.

Would it be easier with words? Sure. But considering that there was once a time when I thought we would never have any form of communication, it’s a major achievement. I wondered about it all. How would he tell me what he needs? How could he tell me he loves me? The proposition can be terrifying for any parent embarking on a non-verbal journey. An unknown future will pull even the most positive of people into the darkness.

Yet, as time moves on, the sun starts to come out. You crawl out of the artificial abyss your mind created when faced with the unknown. Suddenly, you’re interacting with your child in ways you never dreamed possible. Things you never thought you could handle aren’t just taken care of, but surmounted on levels beyond your imagination.

There once was a time when I feared the worst for my son. Today, on paper, many of those worries may have come true in terms of his verbal language. However, I’ve learned that verbal language is overrated. We’ve crossed bridges that I never thought we would and found common ground in places I never expected.

My son loves me. I know it for a fact. He lets me know every day and he never has to even say a word.