I have a Ukrainian friend, who lives lived in Kyiv. We’ve met working on the same project for Nissan, about twelve years ago. We share the same (great) feel for aesthetics, and quality of work, and quite many work-related things.
When I was living in a luxury flat in Lviv, I invited him to come visit me, since we hadn’t seen in person by then. Haven’t seen him much over the years, due to me extensively travelling here and there before getting a family and then, pretty quickly, kids. My today’s life is full of routinish kids-oriented activities, and I’ve lost most of my old contacts. I do love my said friend and enjoy talking with him about things we both like. (Mostly work.) Some of our discussions are quite weird sometimes, but they’re mostly enjoyable and memorable. He’s managed to become Nadia’s godfather! He offered his persona, and I’ve gladly accepted, not ever thinking twice. Not that I have many other options.
He’s the worst godfather ever! According to my wife and especially her mother.
I can confirm, he’s quite unusual godfather. We’ve seen him twice since the moment he became one. Or maybe he’s not. I’ve never seen anormal godparent, they’re all like non-existent. I’ve seen mine like twice, I guess. Thrice, maybe. Obviously, I cannot recall.
They, him and his wife, visited us today. They arrived to Lviv a week ago, but they had some… plans? excuses? We’re not too close.
The last time he visited us in 2022, he’d been with another girl, and so I wasn’t even sure whether the life is that very girl or some other girl. (The latter.) Not that it mattered to me. I don’t mind.
Here, on the west of Ukraine, they have some various traditions, and the godfather’s role assumes to be present in the kid’s life, at least sometimes (say, birthday and Christmas, perhaps Easter too, perhaps her first schoolday… at least something). I feel uneasy forcing any of that on a person if that person does not lean towards being present. I feel uneasy to suggest that ‘perhaps you’d like to, say, buy our kid, a… say, a piece of chocolate…’
The money is not a problem, to put it mildly.
This whole godparenting relationship thing is weird as hell, and not that I’m dissatisfied or disappointed… I’m having hard time surviving parenting to even reflect on all that. I think we’re just some distant dudes, buddies or pals or mates. Not real close friends. I have no issues with that either, we’re half a country away.
Today, it dawned on me that… he may be is on the autism spectrum too. Perhaps not too far, but still. I’m totally fine with that. My daughter is autistic after all. My very close school friend is autistic. And if it’s not for him, I’d be a very different person, that’s for sure.
Only after having Nadia for this many years (over 7), with autism being diagnosed for at least a few years now—
Won’t recall when we’d got that diagnosis, I believe it’s been four or five years.
It’s only these days when I understand that my close school friend is on the autistic spectrum, and very strongly. It’s that he speaks, and he spoke when in school. Nadia doesn’t speak, and it looks like she won’t speak for at least a couple of more years, if not another five-to-ten years. It looks very unpromising for us.
I’ve been joking on some of his weirdness, of my school friend. I was anrgy at some of them, assuming some ill intent, or carelessnes, or mindlessness, or weird logic. It wasn’t for ill, I still love him, and just wanted for him to be better. At some point, after a prolonged Asia trips with meditating daily for years, I think I accepted the life as it is, mostly. And hence, accepted him as he is, with all his weird little things. I still could joke on him. Not for bad, rather in a friendly manner. I understand that there was no point to tell him some things I think about. But I could say them… to, say, my wife. In a negative way, sometimes. To my defence, I was the first to protect him from the same things others would say. That he’s weird, or something. So, I was always like ‘yes, but!’
But!
After I realised he’s a poster boy for autism… I feel very bad for any of that. I started treating him completely different. Not that he’s incapable of understanding some things I expected him to understand on his own… but it would be a great deal of effort for him to reflect on those things. Which may happen, but, say, in decades, not years or even months. He has his huge pile of issues to think about, not some inconveniences.
In the same fashion, I feel bad for my… is there a word for it? The godfather. I wasn’t gossiping behind his back either, but I’ve been commenting on some things. And now I feel bad, because if I’d accept both friends as autists (and I do accept them as they are), it’s even cruel to comment on some socially-blind behaviour, or some lack of emotional intelligence too.
I feel bad for realising this. As if I cannot accept autism. In the same fashion, sometimes (which sometimes becomes oftentimes, depending on how exhausted I am) I’m so irritated with my kid’s behaviour. I don’t yell at her, I never beat her. But sometimes I’m angry and I may talk to her in the loud voice. I may be irritated. That’s totally normall reaction, but I still feel bad about it. As I cannot accept my kid as she is. As if I cannot accept my long-time friends as they are.
It’s difficult. But I’m very thankful for all these people for being in my life, without them the life experience is just poor. They enrich my life. I wonder what’s the real part of the autistic people being all around us. Many can hide successfully. Oftentimes I think: am I an autist myself? Of course, to me I’m the most normal the most average guy there is. But there are so many super-weird people who see me as super-weird! Often I think of them as just being dumb. And oh boy, most of them very much are indeed!
But still. Am I that special too?