My nephew graduated from a special needs college-level program and some members of my "first family" gathered to celebrate him. He is autistic to the degree that he cannot communicate via words, except monosyllabic sounds that indicate yes or no. He can fix computers and change headlights on cars and pretty much take apart anything and put it back together correctly. He has that kind of mind, but he can't talk and lacks the desire to communicate much. He is not socially-inept. He sits in a room with people and goes from one cluster group to another drinking a soda, or eating a plate of food like everyone. However, his is a simpler world. He listens and willingly responds when help is needed. It's quite Buddha-like.
I have to experience my first family in doses. An all-day affair like this is difficult for me. I get very lost in the lack of authentic contact. I pick up an instrument because this is the way for me to center myself and also find connection. It is the only doorway of acceptance or even, understanding, of who I am in relation to this family. Although history draws us parallels of relationship, I cannot imagine I would choose to know 90% of them otherwise.
Perhaps this is my loss. Perhaps it is just truth. But there is a sense of sadness when a gathering of people related by history and biology have no real affection for one another, and barely a sincere curiosity.
At least my nephew, who lives in an internally silent world, has been spared. His inability to speak gives him his own room to observe from, much like my music.
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