Parenting A Special Needs Son In Times Of Hate, Tragedy, and Terror

As I look at a picture of my sleeping son, most likely dreaming of Peppa Pig or Bubble Guppies, I wonder how I’m going to explain our society. At this point in his little life, he doesn’t understand much. He falls somewhere on the autism spectrum, understanding life only as he knows it: eating, sleeping, pooping, and being exceptionally lovable to those he meets.

I know at some point, his cognitive recognition will be at a level in which he will see, hear, and understand the constant tragedies that seem to be occurring in our world; whether it’s a mass shooting, terror attacks by those with radical ideology, or the heartbreaking racial divide that is consuming our country. I can only shelter him so much before he overhears something at school, or at the store, or even a passing glance at the television before I can get to it.

What do I do? How do I break down all the hate? How do I give him hope for a happy future when at every pass, there’s a new catastrophe? I’m not entirely sure when, or how much he’ll understand, but at this moment, I take comfort in knowing he’s shielded from the horror. I take comfort in knowing that I am blessed to hold him close at night, knowing he’s happy, and anticipating the new day with joy.

I have no idea how to make our world a better place. I am utterly devastated, watching lives lost, while I sit back knowing there’s nothing I can personally do to help. I’m not a superhero; I don’t have any magic dragons, or unicorns. I pray everyday that there is someone in our future who has an idea, a plan of action, a promise; a promise to ensure our children’s lives will be better, and safer.

I don’t think I’m asking for too much. As a parent, and a human being, all I want is the right to life, safety, and a future without violence.