It has honestly taken me way too long to write this blog post. Part of it is life has just gotten so busy, and the other part is I like to process when moments or encounters like this happen, and really feeling the emotions that go along with it before I write.
Last weekend we went up to Notre Dame University. My nephew Jack, had a hockey tournament there and any time we can sneak away to get back to Ricky's college, we do. The tournament was awesome, being able to watch him play on the ice, do all things Notre Dame and view Ricky's memorial in the baseball lockeroom always brings happiness to my heart. As we were wrapping up the day before making the trip back home, our whole family stopped at a restaurant right on campus for dinner. We got seated in this back room because we had a table of 13 which included 7 loud kids and the back room seemed fitting for us. As anyone with children knows, eating out is always a toss up. Who's going to behave, who's not, who will eat, who's food is on the floor, who spills etc. It is always an entertaining experience. Our waitress came by to take our drink order and I didn't think much about it. I was sitting next to Alan on the opposite side of the table facing her. He was on his ipad replaying the same Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episode and stimming along with singing very loudly as he always does. We all ordered and continued our conversations about the day, the games and how Jack played. I didn't really pay attention to what or who was around us, I was focusing on surviving a meal in public.
At this point she left the table and then came back with our drinks to take our food order. I sort of caught her out of the corner of my eye looking at Alan. Of course, the mama bear in me was like "why is she looking at him?" The calmer, more sensable side of my knew it was probably because of how loud his stimming and singing were that caught her attention. She continued down the table with everyone else's orders. As she walked up to our end of the table, I ordered for myself and before I could order for Alan, she asked "and what are you going to have, bud?" I kind of looked at her, and looked at my loud stimming boy, knowing that she had to clearly see him not being able to speak. I looked at her with a probably puzzled look on my face, and before I could give my whole "hes nonverbal spiel" she said to me "Is he verbal or nonverbal?" I absolutely changed the look on my face to a much more relaxed position and said "oh, he is nonverbal and he will have the hot pretzles". This sweet sweet soul continued her one sided conversation with Alan, asking him what he was watching on his Ipad as if he was going to answer her back. "My son is nonverbal too. I have one just like him and he's 7, how old is he?" she asked. I told her he was 9 and my whole demeanor comepletely changed as I started asking her questions about her son. We talked a bit more and she went back to the kitchen to put our order in.
The dinner went on as normal, the kids eating, talking, yelling, the usual. My baby had thrown 95% of her crunchies and yogurt melts on the floor. She was ready for a long overdue nap and Miss Rachel was not even working so things were getting rowdy in our back room to say the least. The waitress would come back and forth checking on us, seeing if we needed anything and she would always linger her gaze just a second or two longer on Alan. It's like she wanted to make sure he was okay, like it was second nature to her without even saying anything. It was so beautiful to watch knowing that we all probably do this. When we meet someone in the same boat we are in, it's just a natural instinct and we become protective over complete strangers.
We were wrapping things up, rapidly, hoping to get out of the restaraunt without causing too much chaos. The wheels were falling off as we like to say. She came back to ask about to go boxes and things like that. When we told her they were not necessary, she kind of just stood there looking in my direction with Alan, like she had more to talk about other then to go boxes. With tear filled eyes she blurted out something that seemd like she was trying to hold back the whole time we were there. She said "Can I give you a hug, please?" Almost with a baffled look, I said "Of course you can!" I thought she was honestly talking about hugging Alan, but she in fact was referring to me. She made her way to the other side of the table where now my eyes are filled with tears and she is crying as we are hugging. In that moment she said "Not many people get it. I rarely see someone else who is going through what I am going through, and it is so hard." My heart broke into pieces and it physically hurt in that moment for her. And I felt every word she was saying deep in my bones.
It made me really think on the way home from Notre Dame, how lucky we are to have each other and how we absolutely NEED one another. Whether it is in the Facebook group, family members, neighbors or strangers in a restaurant, WE NEED US. That connection I made with her was so brief and fleeting and honestly I am not sure if I will ever see her again. But I will never forget our time together, our brief encounter and how I needed that hug from someone who "gets it" just as much as she did.
With Grace,
This Autism Mama
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