So we invited his classmates and some old friends to a local bounce house to celebrate.
Zach had some difficulty - and went through periods of running and jumping, to periods of finding a small confined space to compress himself into and watch the others. It was interesting to mix those with special needs with those typical kids - and even more interesting to watch the families and their reactions to the situation.
I have a tendency to have extreme alternating feelings of people in general, one day thinking they are all heartless and untrustworthy and the next finding them warm and even inspiring. I feel I never just tolerate them as I know others do, it's almost always one extreme or the other. When I look at my son and his behavior at the birthday party, I have to laugh and say "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree now, does it?" I have been plagued with social anxiety since I was a kid. I see him engaged and then self isolated, and I get that.
My anxieties about social situations have certainly impacted my relationship and treatment of Zach. I have had to get over some of my baggage in order to advocate for him. (I would like to add that I certainly still have a ways to go.) When I deal with people regarding my son that are not "in the field", and even sometimes with those who are, I expect the worst. I trust no one. I feel that it is only my love that accepts who he is. I question whether the human condition is truly capable of more than just tolerating my son. Are there really those who can actually engage with him, interact with him, value him, be inspired by him?
We live in a society that defines success by achievements of superlatives. Those who do the unthinkable, the unimaginable, who break records, who produce results. The winners. There are stories of talent and determination, combined with hard work. Certainly admirable qualities. But I am often confused at how one man's dedication to himself and his craft is often construed as heroic. I think these ideas diminish the potential in the rest of us who are on other paths, and by doing so, we often times don't pursue to be the successes we were meant to be.
As my previous story indicates, I think that every one of us matters more than we realize. That's because I truly feel that every one of us has the ability to make a difference in someone else's life - that goes beyond our obligations and our own families - to extend ourselves, take a risk, do something we are unsure of or are comfortable with, for the sake of someone with whom we are not expecting anything back in return.
The thing I love about the story, is the relationship these not so disparate ordinary families make, but the fact that one family's act will now connect to them to another family for as much time as they have on this Earth. They didn't have to do it; they were under no legal requirement, nor religious imperatives, nor moral directive, nor did any logic prevail that this would offer them some equivalent in return for their efforts. It was hard, even unfair, but yet it was good. They made a huge difference in someone's life, and most when they watch that video will feel sadness and joy at the same time. That complex feeling, at odds with itself but simultaneous, culminates into what I feel is the definition of life.
So here I stand, far from the winner's circle with my dear son, Zach. At age 7, I have no idea what his future holds. It could be easy to say that he will never achieve what others will, so why try? Or I could "delude"myself that I have a genius on my hands and strive to have a best-selling novel as I chronicle our journey as others have done. There are more and more books about non-verbal children who suddenly find their way into the world with the rest of us as they learn to communicate. They have offered those of us with non-verbal children hope, which the reality of time could dash. If my son never enters the world of communicators, does that mean he has less value? Does that mean he is not a success because he never fails to overcome his obstacles to be more like the rest of us?
Back to Zach's birthday party we go:
Mother of Gabriellat to me at Zach's birthday party: "My daughter was insistent that we go to this party. I told her that we were going to get invited 20 parties, and she said that this is the one she wanted to go to. "
When Mom inquired to her daughter as to why she HAD to go to Zach's party over anyone else's,
Gabriella stated: "We have to go! Zach is special!"
Mom then asked why he was special: (not knowing of Zach's diangosis)
Gabriella replied: " Well he has autism. But he's special because he's my friend."
That mother, looked right at me with tears in her eyes, explaining that her husband was out of work, she was waiting tables at a local restaurant, and that money was tight, and said:
"Well, I realized we just had to go!"
I told her we asked for no presents, just PRESENCE. She insisted on a donation to our fundraiser.
Zach's life alone touched another person. While she told me the story, and I saw the tears well up in her eyes, I was once again in a moment of those feelings of "life", contradictory yet wondrous. Zach's very presence, no actions nor words, had made a difference in that woman's life, and in her daughter's too. He had a purpose, and they took action - extending themselves to him and to our family by attending a party that they were under no obligation to go to, and more importantly, that some people purposely would avoid. What they did mattered. A lot. Enough that I had to share this simple yet paramount story in our lives with everyone.
