Asperger Help

Autistic Son - by Sharon Link

When you learn for the first time

there is a diagnosis

you weep with grief.

You think of all that was

before you and

all that he will miss.

Your joy is expressed in chapters.

I was reading a novel adept at my conviction,

now I am reading a short story

with big words filling the page.

Words seem disjointed

and it is nearly impossible to

make sense of the theme.

The first day, I watched him sleep.

Coming home in the car after the clinic

cuddling with his rubber Iguana.

The next day, I firmly planted

my feet advocating for every right

he is entitled convincing myself that

early intervention is the key.

Perhaps not the well used key

laying on the floor bruised by the

heel of a shoe;

Instead the jagged key with rough

brand new teeth wrenching your stomach

and then your heart.

The week after you begin

the conversation; he reveals himself.

The joy of knowing him convinces you

this was not an accident.

Events are not random.

When you stop mourning

and gauge the wisdom of him

and the breadth of his comments

you begin the process to your own

self discovery and recovery

and all that you thought you had lost

you find again.