When my son was 7 and 8 and the reality of nonspeaking forever was sinking in, I used to spend a lot of time thinking about his future.
What would it be like?
A teenager and then a man who couldn’t speak.
Would I ever know his favorite color?
Or why he loved trains so much?
Would I ever hear I Love You?
Would people be kind to him? Would they be patient with him and treat him with the respect that he deserved?
Would they know how cool he is? And funny? And smart?
And what would our relationship be like?
I would think about these things a lot.
In the shower and especially when I was driving in the car. Just me and him. I’d peer in the rear view mirror and study his face wondering what he was thinking.
I prayed a lot.
And hoped.
I bargained sometimes.
I cried too.
I willed myself to be comfortable with the silence.
It didn’t happen overnight and it wasn’t an easy transition for me. Letting go. Of words. And silly questions. And conversations.
But time, well, it has a way of going on. And with it brings understanding.
A few nights ago, my son and I sat together for quite some time.
We chatted about the color of the water and the fish down deep.
We spoke about the upcoming weekend and how he wants to take an airplane ride.
We talked about the upcoming school year and how he is growing up before my eyes.
And how loved he is.
I made sure he knew.
He never said a word.
But we spoke for at least 20 minutes.
About his favorite color and his favorite trains.
I was really scared. For a long time.
Some days I still am.
But. It’s going to be okay.
Blue. That’s his favorite color.
But more importantly….
He wants to live with his brother Sawyer when he grows up.
Definitely not Harbor.
He made me promise.
