What Will Become of Him

A mother worries about her autistic son's future.

Cathy woke from the dream feeling happy. Her son, Thomas, was getting married. The wedding was a dream come true, the food excellent, the bride beautiful. The night was filled with smiles and laughter. Her euphoria soon vanished...it was just a dream. Her son would never get married, gaze lovingly into a girls eyes, nor would he have a girlfriend. In fact he would never even speak to a girl. Her twenty-five year old son was autistic.

She eased her aching body form the bed, she was feeling her age today. Cathy and her husband, Greg were 63 and 66. Greg was planning to retiring next year. He probably would have retired already, if it hadn't been for all the bills involved with Thomas' care. Greg was already at work. Rising at 5:00 am, he made his own breakfast, giving Cathy a little bit of much needed rest.

She worried what would become of Thomas when she and Greg were gone. She imagined he would become a ward of the state. Who knew what kind of care he would receive then. She didn't think her older son, Brad, would take up the responsibility.

Brad had joined the Army right out of high school and had never looked back. Oh, he had come home a couple of times to visit. The visits had been short and filled with arguments about Thomas' behavior. The visits always ended with Brad leaving early.

She noticed Thomas' agitation the minute she walked into his room. He was sitting up in his bed rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his body. I'm only five minutes late, can't you give me a little slack? Then feeling guilty, she immediately put the thought from her head. Thomas was a stickler for routine, anything out of order and he became agitated. It's my fault for being late.

She guided Thomas from his bed and headed him towards the bathroom. She was lucky, Thomas was higher functioning than some affected by autism. He was able to use the bathroom, shower and brush his teeth with some help. They had some problems when he first started shaving, but now he would allow her to use an electric razor to shave him. He needed some assistance with dressing as well, his arms always got tangled in the sleeves and he couldn't manage buttons. Both legs often found themselves in one pant leg, if she didn't pay enough attention - this always made him angry.

The hugging and rocking started again as they entered the kitchen. She looked at the table and saw the problem. I must have bumped the fork after I set the table last night. Everything had to be precisely placed on the table, any deviation, and he became agitated.

She got busy making his breakfast - the same thing every morning - fried egg, over easy, one slice of whole wheat toast with strawberry jam, and a glass of milk - in the blue glass with sail boats on it. She broke the egg yoke as she transferred it from the pan. Thomas let out a scream and started rocking again. Setting the plate aside - she would eat it later - she started making another egg.

When Thomas was finally settled in, eating his breakfast, she sat down and ate her now cold egg. She sighed. Hope all the problems this morning, aren't an indication that the whole day will be bad.

She loved her son, but oh how she wished that when she looked into his eyes, he would return the look. Being able to hug him would be nice, too - anything to know that he loved her and appreciated her efforts. But, he avoided eye contact and didn't like her to touch him.

She settled Thomas into his favorite chair, where he watched TV from 9:00 am until 11:30 am every morning. The same programs every day. There had been a problem, when one of the shows was moved. A week of screaming and rocking ensued, from 10:00 am until 11:00 am, until she found another program he would watch.

While Thomas watched TV, she cleaned up the kitchen, threw a load of towels into the washer, dusted the furniture and made up a list of items for Greg to pick up after work tomorrow. She looked to see what time it was. Almost 11:30, time to take Thomas to use the bathroom. Her whole day was choreographed.

After using the bathroom, he played with his toys in the bedroom, until lunchtime at 12:30. His play involved lining toys up in the same order every time. When finished, he would have a spiral, starting with the larger toys in the center, radiating out to the smaller items. He would then pick them up again, one by one and place them in his toy box - no one else was allowed to touch them.

While he did this, Cathy vacuumed the the living room, and dining room, then started his lunch. Thomas' lunch always consisted of a tuna fish sandwich on white bread, a baby dill pickle, and a glass of milk - at lunch time the milk was in a glass with a big orange sun.

Thomas played piano from 1:00 pm until 2:30 pm everyday. He played beautifully! He never needed any lessons. It was like...he was just born knowing how to play piano. This was Cathy's favorite part of the day. She would relax in a chair, after cleaning up the kitchen, listen to the beautiful music, and sometimes...she would imagine that her son was normal - a famous pianist.

The music today was exceedingly moving and heartbreaking. It seemed as if he were rebelling against the confines that held him inside. It grabbed hold of Cathy's heart and twisted it. Suddenly, pain shot up her neck and down her arms. She tried to stand, and go to the phone, collapsing, she fell to the floor.

     

“Thomas, please get the phone for momma!” she pleaded.

Thomas continued passionately playing his music - oblivious to the world around him. Cathy was transported from this life on waves of her son's music.

Reviews

[moonbeam40]

Oooooh another great sad sad story, as I was reading it, I was wondering if I would have had all that patience , to carry on that same routine day after day, without screaming and smashing up things in frustration, I liked the ending, sad as that sounds, Mum just had-had enough, a wonderful wonderful story,thanks Wendy:))Moonbeam

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Thank you so much, Moonbeam. I guess it is easy for me to write sad stories, as it is something I know about personally.

[Rick Puetter]

Beautiful and yet horrific. Such is life. Viewed one way, we see it's beauty. I another, we see its tragedy. All of this is folded into the fabric of life. All of it is an essential (maybe inescapable is better) part of it. What is, is. The French said it best: "C'est ca se casa."

Exactly!

Beautiful moving story, Dear Lady! Much enjoyed.

Best regards,

Rick

[A. V. Madison]

I find myself once again lost in this amazing piece of writing, my dear Wendy :)

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A telling and trying piece. The angst, emotion and sheer pain that leads the reader to identfy with the writer always blocks that classic sense of here and now. Bravo,

[Marie]

This is a very good,very touching story. I have worked with autistic adults and have some idea of what this is like.

[thewritingbanana]

This was heart sinking but engaging and powerful. awesome story

[Samuel Dickens]

Engaging, well-written and heart-wrenching. Reminded me of one of my youngest son's classmates. A high-functioning autistic, she had friends that played with her and came to her birthday parties. By the seventh grade, though, everyone but her matured and went on. As far as I know, it's just her and her elderly grandmother now.
An error here--"sitting up in his bet rocking..."
Another here--"A week on screaming and rocking..."

[Shelley Holt-Lowrey]

THANK you for this very clear view into the heart of those parents who have been called to selfless service on behalf of their babies, in whatever capacity required. I've known many such parents, and never tire of hearing about the enormity of joy which accompanies even the smallest steps, and have seen also the very human need for respite, acknowledgement of effort, and most importantly the accompanying fear of a future uncertain. It is but one picture of the human condition which I never get tired of gazing into - for the courage, strength and honor I see reflected there. Thank you!

[Tegon Maus]

Good job Wendy... very sad... but very good. It's a real concern that haunts you to the core. You want the best for him... to give him a piece of yourself to make life a little easier for him and yet there is no way to reach him or to connect even on the simpliest level... heartbreaking doesn't cover it. It makes you feel as if you failed

[devon]

Thank you for entering this lovely piece into my contest!

:)

It's SO much appreciated!