It’s About Who My Non-Verbal Son Is, Not What He Achieves

My 16-year-old daughter, Olivia, is neurotypical and, to be honest, perfect, if I do say so myself. In so many ways, she embodies the person I want her to be

The person I want her to be isn’t as specific as it sounds. I don’t need her to be class president or the MVP on the girl’s tennis team. She doesn’t need a hundred friends, a perfect GPA, or the best performance on stage. When she grows up, she doesn’t need to be a doctor, lawyer, or candlestick maker. None of that stuff really matters when talking about the person I want her to be.

What makes her perfect is who she is as a person. Olivia is a good person with a pure soul. I know that she always has the best of intentions and wouldn’t purposely be cruel to someone else. I see who she is in her heart and, especially when seeing her interact with her non-verbal little brother, I know that she has compassion for those around her.

All of that makes sense, right? People read that and will nod along as if I am giving some basic information that we all can relate to. Of course, our wishes for our children don’t center around career aspirations or achievements. Those things are great, but it’s about who they are at their core that matters most.

I don’t want to be a father to a successful doctor who treats people like garbage. Having an A+ average in school doesn’t mean a thing if she’s mean-spirited and rude. It’s about personality before job titles and accolades.

So, all that being true, why do so many assume my pride and happiness for my non-verbal son with autism is limited to what he can and can’t do? Why do so many people give me a sympathetic look when it comes to Lucas, assuming that I’m somehow sad over his lot in life? Why can’t others see the obvious bond a father has for his child when that child has, what some deem to be, disabilities?

I mean, Lucas isn’t class president or MVP. His social circle is incredibly small and mostly through my own doing. He doesn’t get grades in the traditional sense and there is almost no possibility that he grows up to be a doctor or lawyer. Candlestick maker? Maybe? I don’t even know if that’s a real job. I just threw it out there earlier for the sake of listing three jobs. Regardless, none of that matters anyway.

My son might have “severe autism” in the minds of many. He struggles with life skills and has absolutely no verbal language at all. Just like Olivia, Lucas is cherished for his kind heart and pure soul. His future prospects may be different, and his upcoming achievements aren’t the traditional milestones many other children reach, but that doesn’t diminish his value. Those things that didn’t factor into my pride for my daughter factor in just as little for Lucas.

It’s the other items I listed that matter the most. The kindness, compassion, and love that I value so much from my neurotypical daughter are the same I focus on for my son. They are the traits we worked hard to foster in his personality. They are the traits that he demonstrates today.

Lucas learned to love early. Hugs, kisses, and outward expressions of affection were all things that he was shown firsthand. I read to him when he ignored me and hugged him when he didn’t really “get it”. I demonstrated the way I wanted him to embrace the world and, at 13 years old, that’s what he does.

The pride I feel is deeper than what I would ever feel for a good grade or sporting achievement. While those things are definitely a cause for celebration, they don’t hold a candle to the pride that comes with knowing you raised someone with a beautiful soul.

My son has a beautiful soul. It’s unique beyond words and, because of the way autism affects his outlook on life, unlike any type of personality I’ve ever known. Lucas is real. Lucas is pure. Lucas is focused on living his happiest life unapologetically.

His enthusiasm for life is entirely based on his own personal perspective. He gets no joy from hurting others, insulting people, or proving he’s better than someone else. Negative aspects of social interaction – many we are all guilty of now and again – aren’t even on his radar. He doesn’t understand how to hurt other people and, even if he did, it wouldn’t be something he derived pleasure from. His enjoyment of life doesn’t have anything to do with others.

He cheers for his shows, relishes in his favorite snacks, and jumps for joy when loved ones are near. Life, to my son, is all about being happy. The boy he is and the man he’s shaping up to be are perfect. This is the type of child we all want to say we raised.

And that’s what I’m doing. Just like his sister, I couldn’t be prouder of my son. Whatever he does and wherever he goes both don’t matter. As long as he continues to be the wonderful person he is now, I’ll always be proud of him and the job I did bringing him up. Nothing else matters.