Last week I received this text from my husband: Terrifying!
We should talk to Philip about this now that we know he can understand
why it is dangerous to bolt and run. He
sent me the link to the story of Avonte Oquendo, a 14 year old non-verbal
autistic boy who has been missing for over two weeks after he wandered away
from his school in Long Island City, NY.
As soon as I read the story of Avonte, I felt a huge knot in
my gut. I immediately felt Avonte’s mom’s
panic and terror, like a nightmare you wish you could wake up from but can’t. That feeling came upon me at least twice in
my life. The first time, we were living
in Miami. Philip was 4 or 5 at the
time. I allowed Philip to play in our
fenced-in backyard for short bouts unsupervised. This time I got caught up with some chores
and let more time pass before checking on him.
When I finally went to look for him, he was nowhere to be found! I
screamed his name as my heart pounded loud in my chest. I called to my mom, who was living with us at
the time, “Have you seen Philip?” “No,”
she jumped up. “Oh my God. He’s missing!”
I remember calling the Miami Springs police, explaining my
son with autism was missing from our home.
He couldn’t speak. They responded
to my call within minutes, saying they would make a careful search of our house
first. I was crying. We lived only a few houses down from a canal
and Philip loved water. My mind flashed images
of rescuers pulling a blue Philip out of the canal, and then pictures of his life
in still frames ending in a small coffin.
I thought I was going to suffocate and die. The police walked along our fence and found a
missing slat from our wooden fence.
Philip must have escaped through it.
My mother started combing the back alley and eventually found my son playing
in the grass of a neighbor’s yard, completely content. I hugged and kissed my little boy like never
before. I was so relieved.
The second time Philip went missing was in our new house in
Buffalo. Again I called the cops after
looking up and down the street to no avail.
We found Philip sitting in my husband’s car in the garage. The policeman recommended filling out a form
for Philip to file as a potential wandering risk. It had a place for his picture and a section
on things he was drawn to. I filled it
out that day and mailed it to the local station.
When my husband came home the evening after the reading
about Avonte’s disappearance, we sat Philip down and read him the article about
Avonte. My husband then did a lesson RPM
style with choices. He asked Philip, how
do you think Avonte feels being lost- happy or scared? SCARED, Philip chose. Which place is safe to go- street or
home? HOME. Sam continued with questions such as these
with choices. Sam then asked me to hold
the letterboard while he asked Philip questions. “How can we help Avonte?” Philip answered, “THE DOOR SHOULD ONLY OPEN
TO STAFF.” Philip had a great
point. Why were the side doors of the
school able to be opened by kids? And why
wasn’t Avonte properly supervised? Sam
then asked, “Why is it important not to run off from home or school?” “I CAN GET RUN OVER BY A CAR” he
answered. I asked Philip, “Why do you
think Avonte and other autistic kids run off?”
Philip spelled, “TO ALWAYS ATTACK AT STOPPING SEEMS NOT POSSIBLE.” I thought about that. Philip is always moving. I am always on guard looking after him
wherever we go. He just cannot stay in
one place for long. “Philip, why are you
always moving?” I asked. “THERE IS A LOT
TO ENJOY.” That describes my son very
much. He is the one to splash in a
puddle, smell the flowers, twirl leaves, and run with the wind. I then asked, “How can we help you stay out
of trouble.” “STAY NEAR ME,” he
answered.
I hope and pray they find Avonte soon. I know Philip is praying too.
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