There you are in the grocery store, radiating kindness. My son, Leo, walks by my side as I push the cart, and you rush to catch up with us. Shopping with your mom, you call out to Leo, greeting him with genuine enthusiasm. Although he mumbles a response and wanders ahead, you don’t seem disheartened. When I express my gratitude for your friendly approach, you simply say, “Oh, I get it. That’s just Leo.” As you call out, “See you at school Monday, Leo!” my heart swells, knowing there are peers like you who embrace my son for who he is, autism and all.
In the school auditorium, I find you once again, embodying thoughtfulness. We’re there to watch Leo’s sister in her school play. You come up, pulling your mom along, and sit next to Leo. You introduce him to your mother, and when I ask Leo to introduce me to you, I feel a pang of anxiety when he says he doesn’t know your name. But you reassure me, saying you’re aware of his challenges with names and faces. You introduce yourself politely, and with a genuine effort, you engage Leo in conversation, making strides while your mom and I share small talk over you both. I feel so grateful that my son is learning social skills from compassionate peers like you.
Fast forward to the junior high science class, where I’ve been invited by your teacher to hear Leo’s presentation on the solar system. You’re there, so many of you! You represent encouragement. Leo stands confidently before the class, beaming. He doesn’t realize that your presentations are much more detailed and done independently. Yet, you treat him with the same respect as you did the student before him. It warms my heart to see you all include him and make him feel valued, regardless of his capabilities. I can’t thank you enough!
Then there’s that moment in a department store, where I encounter you again, the face of compassion. I sense your gaze and look over to find you smiling, asking, “Are you Leo’s mom?” When I confirm, you inquire about his whereabouts. I tell you he’s home, and you share that you sometimes eat lunch with him. It means the world to me to hear that. You tell me it’s fun to have lunch with Leo and that you’ve learned more from being his friend than he has from you. It’s a thought-provoking statement, considering Leo struggles with social cues and classwork. Yet, you understand the challenges he faces and are willing to be the kind of friend he needs—one who gives more than they receive, who patiently allows him the time to process before responding. That makes my heart swell with gratitude.
Later that evening, I’m searching for understanding at a music program. Leo is set to sing with his classmates, and I hoped to see you at the entrance. I spot you walking in ahead of us and stop you to ask for directions to his group. You confidently say, “I know where to go! Come on, Leo. Follow me.” As you lead him into the crowd, I call after you, “Thank you!” I feel so fortunate to be part of a community filled with willing faces like yours.
At the school picnic, you all shine as the faces of acceptance. Leo’s class has voted to go fishing at a lake for their end-of-year event. We debated skipping it since fishing doesn’t interest Leo at all. He dislikes getting dirty, and I worried he’d spend the evening asking how much longer we had to stay. But when we arrive, several of you rush to our van, calling Leo’s name and encouraging him to join you. He exclaims, “My friends are here!” as he follows you, and I can’t help but smile, knowing my son has friends who accept him, autism and all.
In our journey through the autism community, I often hear tales of prejudice and bullying. Thankfully, Leo has encountered very little of that. Perhaps it’s because we’ve been open about his autism diagnosis since kindergarten or ensured his classmates were educated about it. Maybe it’s the social coaching programs or simply the fortunate circumstance of living in a close-knit community filled with caring peers who have been taught the true essence of friendship, kindness, and acceptance. It could be a mix of all these factors, but I’m just so thankful for you.
Summary
This heartfelt letter expresses gratitude to my son Leo’s friends who show kindness, compassion, and acceptance towards him as he navigates life with autism. Their understanding and support have made a significant impact on his experience, fostering a sense of belonging and friendship that is crucial for his development.
Keyphrase
autism friendship support
Tags
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