A few days ago, my nonverbal, profoundly autistic adult son underwent knee surgery. As any parent would, I’ve been consumed with worry — wondering if he’s in pain, if he’s scared, if he understands what’s happening.
The hardest part of being his mom in moments like these isn’t just managing the logistics of his care — it’s the not knowing.
These are the moments that stretch my heart the most — the ones where I’d give anything to hear his voice and know what he’s feeling.
He can’t tell me where it hurts. He can’t explain what he’s feeling.
But that’s not how our communication works. So instead, I watch him closely. I read his body language, his expressions, the quiet shifts in his breathing.
I listen with my eyes and my heart.
And then, there are the moments that take my breath away — reminding me how connected we truly are. Like when he simply reaches for my hand and looks straight into my eyes.
No words, no gestures beyond that — just this deep, unwavering gaze. For a solid minute, it’s as if time stops.
In that stillness, I can feel him speaking to me, silently affirming: “I know you love me. I know you’re here. I know you understand.”
It’s in those wordless exchanges that I’m reminded of something profound: communication isn’t always spoken. Sometimes, it’s felt. It’s energy. It’s presence. It’s trust.
Our children, even without words, have an extraordinary way of connecting with us — soul to soul, heart to heart, through the simple power of their eyes.
Because love doesn’t always need language. Sometimes, the most profound conversations happen through the simple power of their eyes.
