The long summer holidays were coming to an end, it was getting ever closer to the children’s bedtimes and they were having a little time on technology while I tidied up. They were quiet so I turned around to check on them to see them engrossed in their own worlds but yet so closely bonded in each other’s worlds they were sitting holding hands. It was one of those moments you just had to be there. It was sweet, intimate and special. It was beautiful:
They didn’t need words (which was perfect since one of them is yet to speak) and they didn’t need to look at each other (even better since they both have autism). A powerful image of two people connected against all odds. A moment of love.
I have had five years and nine months to look at their hands. I remember when their hands were so tiny they could curl round a single finger of mine. I remember holding their tiny hands in a gentle fist while I slipped their arms into little baby grows and cardigans. I remember holding their hands when they needed me to balance them as they took their first steps. I remember gripping their little hands as I showed them how to climb stairs, holding their hands as we walked in shops, climbed up hills or along paths. This week I will take one of those precious hands and hold it as I walk my daughter to school for the first time. Precious moments of love, guidance, bonding and closeness. I know one day she won’t want her mummy holding her hand but until that days comes I treasure that intimacy with her.
One of these little hands will learn to write soon. But while her brother may not do this for a long time to come it doesn’t stop them being close. Summer has brought them so much closer to each other. It has given them more shared experiences together and time in each other’s company. They prefer to be together. Education is separating them but love is joining them.
And while one of these little hands will turn pages in a book, paint pictures, thread beads and cut and stick things the other hand is still be used as an essential means of communicating. It is only in the last year that my son has leant to use his hand to point. I still dream that one day he may use his hand to blow me kisses, or wave, or stroke my face. But right now I rejoice he still uses his hand to take mine to what he wants.
Therapists want my son to take my hand less and use other means of communicating. While I see the advantage to this there is something so special about a little child leading you by the hand to show you what he wants. It connects you physically when there is no language. It tells me he loves me without any words leaving his mouth. And as he uses photos and pointing more I miss those moments when he sought me out, pulled at my hand and led me to what he wanted.
I may not always be around for these children, though I pray God sustains my years on earth for many years to come. But seeing them together, knowing that despite all their challenges they have a deep love for one another, that from the moment they were conceived they have been connected. Seeing my daughter put her hand over her brothers to teach him what to do in a new game, watching how she holds a straw in a glass of juice for him to help him have a drink, observing how she tenderly strokes his arm when he gets upset…I just know that they will always have a friend in each other.
I wanted to kiss them both, explain how special this moment was to them, talk to them about the significance of what they were doing… Instead I smiled at them and took a photograph… While they just sat there holding hands.