My Daughter Didn’t Know If Her Nonverbal Brother Missed Her. Then He Showed Her.

My nonverbal son makes his own decisions in many ways. The things he likes, whether people, activities, food, or entertainment, are all his own choice.

I don’t purport to know what he really likes or try to narrate his feelings from a third-person point of view. There are no imagined “crushes” or telepathic synchronicities. He’s a person and, as a person, he makes up his own mind.

Rather, I base my understanding of Lucas on my, well, understanding of Lucas. I observe him and, as the years have gone by, I can see how he feels in certain situations.

All that being said, I’ve always known he loves his sister.

Olivia is three years his senior and has always been fiercely protective of her little brother. Since they were little, she’s looked out for him and engaged with him. Even during those times when he seems to be focused elsewhere, she was a part of his world.

Those moments always made me smile because I could see the effect she had on him. Olivia always knew how to get through to him in ways that few people besides me could.

She knew how to push the moment beyond his icy wall and make him react. Tickle Lucas and he will act annoyed. Keep playing with him and he might wriggle away, only to come back for more. It’s a delicate balance of knowing when he’s playing along and when he’s genuinely had enough. That’s Lucas.

I learned that when he was much younger. It’s about showing him that you’re not like others who, at the first sign of his annoyance, will drop any attempt to interact. It’s not typical, I know. Then again, Lucas isn’t typical.

Liv knew this when she was five. She’d take his beloved iPad from his hands and sing-shout “Looooooo-kissss!” Then she’d run in circles and he’d chase her. Sometimes he smiled. Most times, he looked stoic.

That stoic expression is a calling card of my son. I often joke that all of his pictures look like we’re holding him hostage. Give him a newspaper with the current date and a gray jumpsuit, you’d call in the National Guard.

One of the biggest disconnects with my son was the idea of “missing” people. I struggled with this one myself.

Right after my divorce, I wrote about whether or not Lucas missed me during my time away and, sadly, I couldn’t truly answer that. I wrote a flowery thing that ended, like most of my posts at the time, with hope, but without a firm answer.

It took a few years before I knew that he missed me. Even now, he doesn’t jump into my arms when I see him for the first time, but within minutes, he’s tapping my arm and smiling. He misses me. I know it.

Olivia didn’t know it.

This is her first semester away at school and, to be honest, it was incredibly hard to let her go. Even with her abbreviated cameo role in my life during her last year or two of high school, not having her accessible has been hard. When it comes to being missed, there’s no doubt that her father deeply wishes she was here.

Lucas? Well, we didn’t know.

I made sure to show him pictures of her on my phone during the last few months. I’d try to arrange FaceTime calls when he was around. I wanted him to see her and he did.

But he did it with a stoic hostage expression on his face.

When we went to visit her this past weekend, though, I could tell things were different from the start.

The second we pulled up, Olivia threw open the back door of the Jeep and wrapped her arms around him. It was adorable and, every time she hugged him, he put his iPad to the side. He wasn’t grinning and cheering…at least not at first.

I started to spot some of those grins that I had become accustomed to lately during our Reunion Wednesday parental tradeoffs, though. As we left her room and walked to the elevator, he looked back at me with a smile that I instantly recognized.

Still, though, it wasn’t a monumental thing…yet.

On our last outing before heading home, we found ourselves in a museum. Lucas was literally falling asleep as we walked. I was so proud of him for coming out and not being an issue.

“I think I’m going to write about this for Monday,” I told Olivia. “You know, how everyone thinks Lucas makes trips hard but he’s usually so good if you work with him.”

And, honestly, that was the plan. Well, until it was time to go.

As we were leaving, I had Lucas say his goodbyes. We were standing in the courtyard outside the museum. We were parked on the south side. His mother, who was staying an extra day, was parked on the north. I kissed my girl on the top of her curly head and took Lucas’s hand to leave.

And he planted his feet.

Like a coil buried in the ground, he refused to move. I thought he was just tired.

Come on, Lucas. We have to go. Car. You can get food and sleep.

He stayed planted and let out a grumble. I thought he was just being difficult. I tried gentle parenting and took his hand into mine.

Come on, Lucas. We can go. Your iPad is in the car.

This time, he did a motion that is unmistakable. He took my hand and flung it away like garbage.

That’s when I realized.

Can you come with us? I think he wants you.

Olivia looked at me. Then she looked at Lucas. He was staring directly at her. She took his hand.

And he started walking with her towards our car.

And I wanted to cry.

It was a truly pivotal moment in understanding and the next step in a long staircase of their relationship. For once, nothing had to be explained or implied. His love for his sister and unwillingness to see her go were evident to anyone.

For years, Olivia had found ways to reach her brother. This time, he was the one reaching out to her.

He truly loves Olivia and values her place in his life.

We both do.

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