06/07/2026
Sometimes I catch myself wishing he had the childhood the world calls “normal” (playing sports, surrounded by friends, free from sensory struggles. I catch myself dreaming of the future I once imagined for him: a doctor, a pilot, or anything the world would celebrate.)
Then I remember… those were always my dreams, not his.
He has autism, and he isn’t grieving the life I pictured for him. He isn’t measuring his happiness against someone else’s milestones. He finds joy in the things that light up his world, and he loves the life he’s living.
Maybe he was never the one missing out.
Maybe I just needed to let go of the life I imagined, so I could finally see the beauty in the one he was always meant to have. 💙
