Saying the word alone leaves your mouth open until you intentionally decide to close it. I'm not sure when the word Why moved in with me, but before I even realized it, Why had fluffed its pillow, laying next to me every single night, whispering. I couldn't sleep.
My son doesn't deserve this. My family doesn't deserve this. Autism had robbed him verbally, socially, and cognitively and left him in a world that we couldn't enter by door or by window, even though we lived in the same house. No key opened the door. Why does my son have autism? Why isn't he typically developing? Why won't he look at me? Why is he screaming? Every answer led to more questions, and Why was always willing to start the conversation. It's not that finding the answers wasn't important, but it was that I was consumed and held prisoner by the question.
Until... I stopped asking, or at least I stopped asking in that way. Instead, I began researching and inquiring about various therapies and techniques and early childhood intervention services. I took notes from other families traveling in the same special needs lane. I began sharing our families journey, www.onaisle9.com, and embracing the strength and courage to live in each moment. Moments have passed. Days have passed. We've grown stronger as a family, as we shelter one another during the unavoidable storms, and when the sOn comes out, because he always does, we dance with immeasurable joy. Why has no invitation to that party.
There are times when I still wonder and wander off with Why. But it's less often now, not because I don't want the answer, but because I'm not controlled by the question...