Apparently it's been over 8 years since my last post. Those 8 years were probably the hardest of my life, and yet I didn't feel the need to write about them here. 

But, let me tell you what happened yesterday. 

Grant could spend 24 hours a day searching for videos and pictures. We spend hours as he shows me browser tab after browser tab. Some of them, he can now read the titles to me. While most would not understand the words he says, I can understand most of them. It thrills me to see him sound the words out, making the attempt at sharing his thoughts. These pictures can be just about anything, but you can generally trace the root of the search to PBS Kids, Nick Jr, Baby Einstein, or Veggietales. 

So, back to last night. After a few hours on his laptop by himself, he brought it to the room where I was watching football. He sat right next to me and I knew he wanted to look at the pictures together. All good - any attempt he proactively makes at being social is a big win for me. After a few minutes, he glanced at me and put his left arm around me. Intentionally. 

Maybe he meant, "I care about you, Dad."

Or, maybe he meant, "This is what you do when you sit next to me, Dad, and it makes me feel important."

Or, maybe he meant something completely different.

No matter. He put his arm around me. His left hand directly on my left shoulder. And then he squeezed my shoulder. I knew then that he meant it - "I'm doing this on purpose, Dad."

In some way, he was saying  "I care" and "I like spending time with you, Dad". Can you really ask more from your 21-year-old, regardless of how many words they can say to you?

I write this to share my joy about this moment. But, more than that, I write this to share with you parents who may not believe your child will ever be capable of this moment. When the crying and screaming seemed like they would never stop. When you've reached your limit on embarrassing social situations. When you've lost so many friends that you can barely remember how to make a new one. When you're family split up out of nowhere, leaving you with an uncharted path before you. When you had given up on your son's ability to grow and improve and learn. 

And then, with no words, he walks in the room and puts his around you, squeezing your shoulder.