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Finding Joy
My son has autism. Don’t be sorry for us
Others may see deficits. But I see a surfeit of imagination, inventiveness, focus and joy.
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The writer's six-year-old son (right), affectionately nicknamed Pogi, with his three-year-old twin brothers.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF CARYN LIM
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Caryn Lim
When I mention that my six-year-old son has autism, the response I sometimes receive is, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I know the words often come from a place of kindness and unfamiliarity. But embedded within them is an assumption that autism is inherently tragic, unfortunate or something to grieve. It isn’t.
