I read this book my sister gave me about a mother's struggle to recover her son from Autism. One of the paragraphs really hits the nail on the head for me:
"He stares off into space for minutes at a time. I call his name and snap by his face only to be completely unnoticed. His forearms flap lightly at his sides as if his elbows are attached to his ribs. Then there are those extremely rare moments in which I catch a glimpse of the little boy who is hiding inside the furthest corner of a hollow shell: the look on his face when we hold hands and I spin him around, the way he briefly comes alive when we dance, or his exhiliration when I give him an underdog in the swing. My instinct as his mother tells me he's in there. But he's fading deeper into oblivion as times goes on - further from my grasp. The deep-set panic that he'll be beyond my reach is so severe it controls me. I focus all my time and energy on pulling out the boy I used to know - the boy who occasionally appears when we dance. I shadow his every move, hoping to stave off the monster that threatens to forever consume him."
Every minute of every day my prayer is the same, that one day, I'll be able to finally meet my little girl.
(BTW, check out my autism blog: http://speakingonthespectrum.blogspot.com/ )
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