A son diagnosed with autism has taught Renato Bonasera some important lessons.
As a dad, I wonder about the role I am supposed to play in the lives of my children. I am conscious that I live in a society which often confuses the meaning of fatherhood and reduces it to just one of the ways one can parent.
Yet, I know that my role as a father is unique and irreplaceable in the lives of all three of my children, one of whom has an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).
For the past three years my wife and I have been getting used to the gift that is our son Joshua. At age three he was diagnosed with autism and it has been a tumultuous, yet rewarding, journey for all of us.
Any parent of a child with an ASD will tell you that early intervention is the key to a child’s “recovery”.
It is necessary to help the child find a way beyond the meltdowns, the anxiety and fears, social awkwardness and general confusion.
For my wife in particular, early intervention has meant countless hours of work and much love. She has set her own life aside in order to give Joshua the best he could have.
Joshua, like our other children, is a treasure, a precious gift that we would never wish away.
Now six years of age, we can see blossoming before our eyes a gentle, generous, protective, just and loving little boy who is extremely intelligent and insightful. There were times when it would have been difficult to see his giftedness stand out as much as it does now. I regularly marvel at what he is now revealing about his inner world and about the role I play as his dad.
Driving back home from a trip to McDonald’s one weekend, I noticed Joshua reading a page from a magazine that had been left in the car.
“Dad, what’s loneness” he asked, referring to the title of the article. “Do you mean loneliness, Joshua? Loneliness is when you sometimes feel all alone and sad. Do you feel lonely sometimes?” I asked.
Joshua proceeded to tell me that he sometimes felt lonely at school when his friends didn’t play his games.
He then paused and said the most touching thing to me which I will never forget. “But when I come home, I take my sad face off and put my happy face on because I see your face.”
Despite my many inadequacies, Joshua knows a truth that at times fathers can forget; that despite human frailty, the bond that exists between father and son is one of the most beautiful and enduring bonds that exist – and it is a bond to be treasured and celebrated and which is greater than any autism.
He has also shown me that his ability to cope with his very stressful and anxious world is heavily dependent on the extent to which I walk by his side.
Over the last two years I have watched my son struggle with swimming lessons due to the anxiety they can cause.
Joshua had made little progress in his group classes. He spent most of the time practising creative evasive manoeuvres rather than following instructions.
We switched to private classes and though some advance was made, I was frustrated with the lack of progress. So I decided to ask if I could join the instructors in the pool.
Within two lessons my son had been inspired to glide, float, submerge his head completely and torpedo, not just because of the determination of the instructors but because he saw daddy get in the water and model it first.
My presence was the key factor in helping him overcome much of his fear.
All our children possess a love for life, an energy that leaves one speechless (and exhausted) and above all a need to be noticed, accompanied and loved by their parents, whether they have special needs or not.
Indeed, I have noticed all my children calling out, “Look at me, daddy” in their own way.
When my delightful four-year-old son Jacob performs acrobatic stunts in front of me and my two-year-old girl says “I need you, daddy”, they are both communicating more than they think.
My son is asking me to confirm that he has what it takes to become a man like me. And my little girl needs me to tell her that she is the beautiful princess of my heart.
If any father out there has been sold the lie that he is not needed by his children then I urge him to rethink. If any father has had his children taken away, whether justly or unjustly, might I suggest that it is never too late?
If in no other way than through a heartfelt prayer entrusting your distant children to the heavenly Father, you can still play a part in their lives. Your children need you.