The Never Normal

Last night my father had my grandmother up to his house for dinner, and afterward they came here and brought us some of the food.  My grandmother looked beautiful in a peaches-n-cream summer outfit, her shoulder-length white hair up in a barrette/bow, her makeup tastefully done, clutching her summer-white beaded purse, all smiling and chatty.  She is 91 and didn’t look a day over, oh, maybe 72.

When they left, Jonah gave his grandfather and great-grandmother kisses.  Tears came to my eyes — before Jonah was diagnosed with autism, I had the common misconception that folk with autism want little or nothing to do with people — that they don’t even really understand what’s going on around them.  Jonah, though, was loving, affectionate, and huggy right from the start — so even when it became apparent that something was going on with him, I confidently crossed autism off my mental list of possibilities.  Oh, the arrogance!  How little I knew.

But last night, when Andy and I said “Give pa kisses! Give grandma kisses!”, he not only understood us but also was happy to give those kisses.  It made me so proud, really thrilled.

He may not speak with words, but our son definitely can communicate.