When my son Lucas was first diagnosed with autism and we learned he would be non-verbal, fear and uncertainty took hold of me. How would I communicate with him, understand his needs, and ensure he felt heard and loved? The idea of dealing with a non-verbal person seemed next to impossible.

Most people reading this might think the same thing. After all, so much of our lives are wrapped up in words. We choose them, watch them, and carefully say them. Our communication seems to hinge entirely on verbal language.

But does it really? Choosing words, watching them, and carefully using them imply there’s more to this process than sharing information. People often don’t use words for direct statements but to get what they want.

People talk in circles or hide their true intentions. They tell you what you want to hear, tell others something different, and twist scenarios to make themselves the hero when they’re clearly the villain. They say they hate you when they love you, love you when they hate you, and insist they don’t want a present when they desperately do.

In a nutshell, words are overrated and often confusing.

Do you know who never does any of those things? Lucas. At 13, my non-verbal son plays none of these games.

When Lucas wants Pirate Booty, he asks for it. Even if I’m busy, annoyed, and clearly don’t want to get it, he’ll still ask. I can huff, puff, and slam it on the table. He’ll eat it and ask for more. I could be on fire, and he’d still ask for Pirate Booty if he felt like it. Lucas knows what he wants and tells me through hand motions or his communication device whenever the desire strikes.

He doesn’t sit there munching on a bag of apples just to appease me, only to secretly complain to others later. He doesn’t play the victim or create false narratives. Lucas tells me what he wants, and if he doesn’t want it, he’ll push it away. It’s the most refreshing thing in the whole damn world.

No joke. No exaggeration. No stretching reality. That’s the truth. Dealing with my son, while demanding at times, is pure. I can trust him, and honestly, I understand him better than anyone.

My son hugs me because he loves me, not to get me to be nicer or buy him something expensive. Presents mean nothing to him, and he doesn’t grasp the concept of manipulation or duplicity. He is who he is, wants what he wants, and never hesitates to let me know.

No one has ever come to me with things my son said about me that contradicts what I know his feelings to be. Lucas loves me. I can say that with 100% certainty. He’s the only person on the planet I can be sure has no ulterior motives or deceitful thoughts. I know him.

Of course, the non-verbal drawback is that Lucas sometimes doesn’t know when to pull back and handle things more chill, as they say. Have you ever had a boy steal your lunch, gobble up your sandwich in one bite, and then throw a fit because you won’t give him the new sandwich you made for yourself? I have. Those are fun meals to sit through.

Does that sound annoying? It is, but I’ll take it any day over returning to a cleaned-up plate and a disingenuous monologue about how he didn’t really take my sandwich, didn’t want it anyway, what kind of narcissist makes themselves a sandwich, and how he’s still holding a grudge from a sandwich I didn’t make him in 2019.

No, I just come back to a smiling boy with bread hanging from his mouth and a manically happy round of applause as I dejectedly clean it up. His motivations are in-your-face, and nothing is hidden. That’s what makes it refreshing, even through the annoyance.

Truth be told, I’ll take Lucas’s approach to life over the way so many people with too many words do it. I know where I stand with Lucas. I know what he wants and how he feels.

Is some of it hard to understand without more words? Sure. Do I understand his intentions better than those who jabber constantly? Absolutely. Did I ever think I’d say that about my non-verbal 13-year-old when I was first told he might never speak? Absolutely not.

The craziest part of this journey is what it has taught me. I’ve learned I would do anything to build communication with my son. Verbal language isn’t a prerequisite for living a happy life with someone you love.

I also learned my fear of never understanding a person who couldn’t speak was unfounded. In fact, raising a non-verbal child has taught me one undeniable truth. It’s the verbal people I can’t understand.