He does not want what he hasn't got

Yesterday I signed Max up  for an upcoming Sunday event for youth with disabilities, run by university students. It's a carnival, with arts and crafts, games, movies and performances. As usual, I felt a rush of gratitude that such events exist.

If it were up to Max, he'd spend his hours roaming Home Depot to shop for furniture for his future home in Florida, where he'd like to move, and watching YouTube videos of fire trucks around the country. He also enjoys taking walks around our neighborhood, going to malls and eating out. Shows, too, and maybe the occasional museum visit. I am grateful for all of this, because when he was little his sensory issues made going anywhere hard for him (and us).

Dave is Max's best friend. The two of them eat bad food together, go on drives and generally roam around, often with Ben in two. But while I am incredibly grateful for their bond, and for the social opps that exist, I am also heartbroken about the lack of friendships in Max's life.

The students in his classes, both at his former school and his current one, don't live close by. On occasion, I arrange hangouts, and Max goes to parties with classmates. His school hosts social events where students from other high schools spend an evening with students at his school. Max loves these evenings—he is a really friendly, social person. Which just makes it that much harder for me to deal with the lack of friends in his life.

For a while, a really cool teen boy was visiting Max through a program. A few months ago, the visits stopped. This boy no longer had the time or dedication for Max. Max cried when he forgot to show up one day. I understood, on a certain level; teens get busy. But then, I felt awful for Max. A new person, a girl, has taken his place; Max really enjoys her company, yet he still asks about that boy.

Although I have forged many paths for Max and opened many doors, I can't make friendships happen.

Max doesn't talk about this. He is content. Only I know what he is missing—best friends who bring fun and adventure and comfort and support and perspective and reality checks and shoulders to cry on and all sorts of consolation, serenity and happiness. And while I try not to project my own experiences and feelings onto Max, the thought of him not having this makes me sad.

And so, I'm glad for the social events that crop up. Unlike friendships, their satisfaction is short-lived, but what does that matter? Max has a great time.

As sometimes happens, I have to push my feelings aside and remember that he is not me. Max is his own person, he has a good life and he is happy.