My Truth Lies with Him

April 2, 2016 – Ali Family Truths #2

The irony is not lost on me.

Two years ago today, on World Autism Awareness Day, D was dealt such a blow to his health that my heart was irrevocably broken. We sat, waiting for him to wake from his anesthesia, waiting for the doctor to come out and tell us what he had found.

The news was not good.

Later that day, as I sat on our deck and watched D, now fully recovered from the anesthesia, playing in our backyard and swinging in the hammock in the warmth of the spring sun, I wrote this:

… today has shifted the ground I stand on. The earth is sliding beneath me, and I’m questioning every decision I’ve ever made, everything I’ve ever done, every time I ignored something that shouldn’t have been ignored, or put you on the back burner to take care of the other million responsibilities I have to our family. The prayers I’ve prayed, the verses from the Quran I’ve clung to, the du’as others have offered time and time again for you – they all ring hollow to me in this moment.

It’s fitting that this morning, when we stood on the precipice of that great unknown, praying for the best, fearing the worst, that both of your grandmothers sat beside you and prayed over you. The words of faith bubbled to their lips freely and fully. Their strength in God’s will, in His mercy and His plan was pure and steady. But I? I stood silent. I was empty, waiting for you to fill me with your light.

There are days that never leave you. Never leave you until your dying day. Two years ago on this date is one of those days. And yet, as I sit here and write this in D’s room as he lounges on his bed, spinning his beads and settles down into bedtime mode, I wonder if that day remains seared in his brain as it is in mine.

The truth is, D has a remarkable way of moving forward. I’ve never known anyone else in my universe to take what comes at him and keep placing one foot in front of the other. Only in the sickest of times have I seen him retreat, burdened by illness or anxiety, and hide from the world under the bedcovers in his room.

If only we all had the fortitude and strength of this young man. I certainly don’t.

World Autism Awareness Day seems a mixed bag of emotions to me. What more is there to be aware of? How can there still be people out there unaware the deep, rich, important, difficult, challenging, meaningful lives being lived by those with autism? Or of the challenges – medical, social, educational and otherwise – that they face? And if they are aware, then what good is that awareness? Where is the action? Is there enough action? Can there ever be enough action?

I look over at D and realize that my truth lies with him. In his ability to move forward, to trust implicitly, to embrace whole heartedly, to love unequivocally, to try endlessly, to teach us patiently.

All that which cannot be contained in one measly World Autism Awareness Day.