Josiah is non-verbal.  He has vocalizations.  But, he doesn’t talk.  He may never be able to tell us what he wants, with words.  

He has some sign language.  He used to know 45 signs.  I wrote them all down once, along with the date.  I had a plan.  I would teach him 5 new signs each week.  I made a list and classified the signs in order of importance.  I put a target date for each sign to be mastered.  I’m not sure what happened to that plan.  It never materialized.  He uses only 4 signs most of the time:  eat, more, drink, and finished.

Josiah is pretty smart though.  He has invented his own way of letting us know what he needs.  Often times he takes my hand and drags me to something he wants.  He grabs my arm and ‘throws’ it at the object of his desire when it’s out of reach.  He throws my purse at me and walks to the door when he wants to go for a ride. 

He gets behind me when I’m sitting in a chair, pushes my head forward, runs around to the front of the chair and grabs my arm.  This means, ‘Get up.  I want something.”  He takes the dog’s leash from the laundry room and brings it to me when he wants to take Mocha for a walk.  He opens the refrigerator and grabs a gallon of milk when he’s thirsty. 

We’ve learned, all behavior is communication.  

What we haven’t learned is how to understand everything Josiah is communicating.  We’re not quite sure about the shrieks or the screams, or the punches to his chin or the punches to his head.  We don’t know what it means when late at night or in the early hours of the morning, he sits cross legged on the bed and bounces for 30 to 60 minutes at a time.  

We haven’t figured out why he grabs fists full of our hair and pulls with all his might.  We don’t know why, without warning, he walks past one of us and punches us in the face. 

We don’t understand why he hurls toasters and blenders and glasses and plates, with lightening speed, to the ground.  We don’t know why slamming the door repeatedly brings him such joy.   We don’t know why Josiah does a lot of things Josiah does.  He doesn’t tell us.

So for now, we are left to figure it all out. A specialist once said to me, “Your son is an enigma.  He is very different from other children with Down Syndrome.”   I already knew that. 

I’ve learned to get used to Josiah’s silence.   I’ve learned to marvel at the ways Josiah chooses to communicate with us.  I’ve learned to accept Josiah for who he is and not wish him to be different.

Someday my son will have a voice.  Someday he will not only talk, he will sing.  I imagine his voice to be that of an angel.  He will have so many things to tell me.  Most likely that will not be anytime soon.  It won’t take place on earth.  That day probably won’t happen until both Josiah and I are in heaven. 

So, I’ll be patient.  I can wait.  But when we get there, the one thing I most long to hear is, “I love you, mom”.