Time flies. The kids grow up so fast. You know all the classic lines that parents repeat. We repeat them because they’re true.

Since starting this blog in February of 2017, I’ve seen my non-verbal son reach milestones, work towards goals, and settle into the teenager he has become. Many questions were answered and many more popped up, still learning along the way.

Some of the pieces I wrote focused on issues that no longer exist in our lives. For example, the little boy who loved to run everywhere and anywhere doesn’t do that today. He doesn’t elope or dart across the playground. That running fear I had in the early days is now gone.

The same can be said for his propensity to steal food from the plates of strangers, throw massive amounts of objects over the gate in his room, and fear that he might never understand danger. These issues, along with others, have all faded into the background. In many cases, the posts I wrote about them at the time are the last remaining memories of problems that seemed insurmountable.

running

Might they pop back up? Sure. One of the issues that I had covered with Lucas was how his phases can sometimes come up again. Nothing ever feels completely finished and there’s always a chance that we might end up with a stolen French Fry or sprint through Costco when we least expect it.

One issue, however, I know isn’t coming back. It was a substantial subject in the early days of parenting and one that I never envisioned changing.

The issue was thanklessness. As a young boy, Lucas didn’t show appreciation in any sense of the word. He didn’t say “thank you”, give cards, or seem to miss me when I was away. I presented this fact and explained that, as his father, the trick is to still do these things even without these outward expressions of appreciation.

I talked about how Lucas taught me that you don’t do things for people you love, demanding a “thank you” in return. You don’t say “hello” just to get one back. Doing for a loved one is something you do because you want to and because you love them.

In conjunction with this, I mentioned how I would read him bedstories when he didn’t seem to pay attention. He didn’t need to know to understand the concept of love. He just needed to be my son. As the father of a non-verbal boy with autism, I knew that my role was to do right by him, even if he might not “get” that I was doing so.

Well, today, nearly a decade later, I can tell you that we have the opposite. There’s no way for me to write about “thankless parenting” when it comes to Lucas. Lucas is one of, if not, the most thankful person in my life.

lucas kiss

Does he say “thank you”? No. He doesn’t say anything. On the cusp of turning 14, my son has never spoken a word. Thank you would be two words. We’d be throwing a double party for that one.

There’s a “thank you” button on his device…that largely goes largely untouched. He doesn’t really have a gesture for it either. Sometimes he’ll touche his mouth, but that’s sort of his catch-all. He uses it the way the Smurfs use the word “smurf”. When he does it in proper context, I smile and say “you’re welcome”, but that’s not the expression of gratitude I’m talking about here.

Lucas is my little guy and judges people based on their actions, not words. His view of others isn’t based on side talk, hearsay, or hidden motives. He sees the life that we built and knows that, above anyone else on Earth, he can trust me to do right by him. I’ve proven that to him over the past decade. He’s seen it firsthand.

When people read these posts and hear our story, they remark about how close my son and I are today. There’s a reason for that. It’s because during those early days, I treated him like he understood everything. I never disregarded him or ignored his needs. I gave him everything I could, even when he asked for nothing.

The Year My Non-Verbal Son Will Speak His First Word – Or Not, And That’s Okay

Because of that, as he grew, he understood that his father loved him. The road to understanding took a while, but we stuck it out, even when it felt like it wasn’t making a difference. Lucas learned it through actions. He saw the place he had in my life and knew that, even when he isn’t entirely sure what is happening, Dad makes sure he’s happy and protected.

He may protest getting out the car or even dig his heels into the ground, but there’s no massive meltdowns as we fight to go into a store. If I tell him to wait for dinner, he might let out a small whine, but he knows that he’ll be fed. When he seems overwhelmed or overstimulated, he knows that I can see it and will make him feel better. I love him and know he loves me. That’s no longer a question.

Even those books I used to read to him while he looked away and sometimes tried to leave the room have taken a different turn. Today, I find him paging through them in his room. For the past few months, bedtime stories have made a return and we close every night with a rendition of “Frog and Friends”.

This is the life we made together. It’s beautiful and perfect. It also never would have existed without pushing forward during those early days of doubt. If you want a relationship, build one. If you want love, show love. It might take a while, but it all comes back in the end.

Unseen Lessons: How My Non-Verbal Son With Autism Became A Little Gentleman

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