I was home when they headed out.  I was home with the police officer showed up in our driveway with Ronan and Celeste in his cruiser.  No one had called the station to report what was going on, that police officer happened to be doing his rounds through our part of the neighborhood and came upon them.  Without judging or adding any stress to the already tense situation, I learned that he encouraged Ronan to get up.  It took a few minutes, but he was successful.  Once on his feet again, the officer turned and asked Celeste if he could do anything more.  A ride back home would be helpful, she said.  So, that’s what he did.  

After taking care of the paperwork that brought me to the station and thanking the guy for his help - not just for today's assistance but for being on-call for those few moments we've required emergency response, I got hit hard with the emotions.  I mean hard.  Holding my tears back, I said thanks again and walked toward the front door.  The closer I got to the entrance, the harder it was for me to see.  My eyes were welling up.  I’ve cried instantly before, but I wanted so badly to stay composed while I was still in the building.  

Can I just tell you how hard it was not to cry while making my way from the back of the police station to the car? 

It was SO hard!

Keeping myself from losing it in the parking lot, I got in my car, started it and turned on the radio.  As I put my car in gear, this song came on.  It didn’t take more than hearing the first few chords before I completely lost it.

Tears, and tons of emotions, came flooding down my cheeks.  The worry, the fear, the frustrations, and the sheer love I have for this child of mine - I felt every emotion and more.  This song has randomly played after other really tough moments and usually brings on the waterworks.  Well, cue the tears.  Down they streamed covering my cheeks.  Down they continued to fall until I made it safely back home.  

Raising a child with special needs is so hard.  So hard.  I try harder to find something positive or hopeful during every situation.  But when I can't see the positive or remain even the tiniest bit hopeful, I can't help but cry.  

Like I did that day.  

One of my favorite quotes, by Isak Dinesen, is, “The cure for anything is salt water - tears, sweat, or the sea.”  On days that the emotions are just so raw, I expect those tears.  I’ll never be ashamed of shedding them.  It may not come right away, but a little bit of healing usually happens sometime after the tears have stopped.  That’s when I pull myself up again and face life and our reality.  For us, autism wandering, calling for emergency medical assistance, and needing to diffuse meltdowns are reality.  Some of that, like the wandering Ronan used to do, is not as great a concern as has been in years past, but I won’t let my guard down yet.  I’m glad our police force has promised that they won’t either.      

Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism.