Every parent of a neurodivergent child understands and embodies this wish. It’s dangerous for me to suggest I can read the minds of other parents, but for me—someone whose child will never live independently—I am confident other parents in my situation universally want a safe landing for their vulnerable child. This desire propels us forward, keeps us up at night, and fires our imaginations. 24/7. Of course, all parents want their children to thrive, but neurotypical children, like Ges’s elder sibling, will flourish. This is foundational to our parenting philosophies: we taught our children what they needed to know, they picked up what else they needed to know, and as they grow and evolve, they will learn from and adapt to the vicissitudes of life. We hope the world treats them kindly, but if it doesn’t, we have faith in our children’s resilience.

But the Geses of the world need the world more. They need the world to care, to show up, to be generous. When Ges was little and I was pouring so much of my time and energy into his therapies, I used to think he needed to be different. It took him and his friends to teach me that the reality is that the world needs to be different. It needs to be kinder, as Mr. Farrell wishes. Today, my efforts are focused on helping others around Ges see him. I work hard with the neurotypical coworkers, volunteers, and strangers around my son so that they can start to see the person, not the disabilities. It’s easy to see his disabilities. It’s harder to see his abilities. It takes a generous soul to pause and reflect and see the emotionally intelligent, funny, generous and kind soul my son is.

But what happens when I’m not around to smooth a path for my son? I want to always make sure the world is kind to him. I don’t want to live forever. I just want to live one more day than my child.