When people used phrases like “autism journey,” I thought it was poetic melodrama. Honestly, when Lucas was small, I thought it was just to sound monumental. I didn’t get it.

Now, parenting a 13-year-old non-verbally communicating son, I fully understand. It’s not about physical toll. It’s about the day-to-day challenges and joys we face together. It’s become routine, part of our daily life. Lucas needs help, and as his father, I’m here for whatever he needs, for as long as he needs.

While there may be many ways to frame the word “journey”, there’s one that’s most important to us. It’s about time and understanding.

Lucas has his own personal journey with autism. He’s never known any other way and it shapes his perspective in some truly beautiful ways. I wish I could have the unbridled joy and passion that he does for the world. That’s part of his own story.

For me, the journey has been more about understanding what autism means to our family and the parts that I had been catastrophizing while daydreaming of a future yet to happen. It’s been about shifting goals and coming to grips with what my son needs, rather than what I want.

What did I want? Well, for years, language was the only achievement I could see. It was such a big box on our checklist that nothing else fit on the page. If only he could say some words, I’d tell myself, everything would be alright.

To this day, he remains non-verbal. Under my fearful thinking back then, I would be disappointed. Yet, it took that one missed milestone to show me that it was never about saying one thing that was most important. It was about understanding many things.

We know what Lucas wants most of the time and have found so many ways to communicate with him. Whether he leads you to food, communicates through his device for juice, or uses signs to express his lunchtime wishes, his enjoyment of food is evident. Also, he has no struggles with sharing his desires.

Ten years ago, this was also something I thought would be impossible. My toddler barely acknowledged my existence. How could he ever know what he wants, much less tell me? Under my old list of goals, we had to teach him to vocalize first before he could ever ask for something. It was daunting and, by putting that parameter on it, I was adding so many steps to something that he can now do with ease. I just needed to realize there were other methods to do it.

Time ticked by and, as it did, my son grew. We put in the time and effort to give him alternative ways to request and share his feelings. We didn’t insist he only use his voice to do it. We’d still be waiting. He’d be forever frustrated.

That was never an option, because when the decision came around about giving him a device, it was hard to accept, but easy to agree to. It was an acceptance that came from being honest with myself and knowing what’s best for the boy I had been walking the path with.

Acceptance is about exposure and understanding. That’s why I don’t beat myself up for how I viewed autism in those early years. I didn’t know what it was, what it meant, and how it would affect my son.

The reason I talk so much about autism appreciation and how my child’s personality has wonderful aspects to it because of, not despite, autism is because so few people know it exists.

Autism isn’t something our family needs to “fix”. It’s something that’s a part of our world and a part of one of our favorite people. If we love Lucas, as we do, it’s up to us to learn who he is and how he sees the world. It’s up to us to give him the tools he needs to reach his ultimate potential.

In terms of my own journey with Lucas, there has been an overwhelming positivity that overshadows any misery I projected on us all those years ago. It has been a new experience and a chance to know one of the purest and kindest souls on the planet. Autism gave me a relationship unlike any I’ve ever had before. It’s been a true highlight of my life.

Writing this now feels completely natural, a testament to how far we’ve come. Ten years ago, I might have dismissed such thoughts as unrealistic. Yet, the adage “Seeing is believing” perfectly encapsulates our journey.

Living alongside Lucas, I’ve witnessed the transformative power of autism from a perspective I could never have imagined. He has taught us the profound capabilities and beauty of a non-verbal individual, eloquently demonstrating his essence without uttering a single word.