One day, while driving, I noticed a young man walking along the road. His clothes were torn, and he appeared to be living in extremely vulnerable circumstances.

I did not know his story, but the sight of him stirred feelings of anger, sadness and compassion.

Where were his parents, siblings or other relatives? Surely someone had known him as a child, remembered his laughter and dreams, and knew the person he was before life brought him to this point.

I remembered hearing about another individual who had died after living on the streets. A relative reportedly explained that he had chosen that life. Perhaps he had, but perhaps his circumstances were more complicated. I could not know for certain.

As I continued driving, I noticed other young men who appeared to be struggling, some barefoot or inadequately clothed. Others seemed to be experiencing difficulties with their mental well-being. I fought back tears, and my thoughts turned to my own son, Nickolas.

I thought about the sacrifices I make for him. Some come willingly, while others require me to surrender parts of myself that I sometimes struggle to give up. Still, I make them because I am his mother.

Yet even a mother’s love cannot prevent the responsibilities of care-giving from becoming overwhelming.

I remembered a particularly difficult experience with Nickolas that left me mentally and emotionally exhausted. I desperately needed someone who could help me navigate what I was facing.

I picked up my phone, but I began to cry.

Why?

One question had surfaced in my mind: Who could I call?

I needed more than comfort. I needed someone who could step in and help.

I searched my mind for a name, but the painful answer came: It’s just me.

That realization led to an even more frightening question.

What happens to Nickolas when I am no longer here?

I am not simply thinking about leaving him money, clothes or somewhere to live. Those things matter, but they cannot replace human connection, advocacy and genuine care.

Sometimes, I imagine Nickolas at 33 or 45. I worry about the resources I worked hard to secure being mismanaged, his needs being overlooked, or his circumstances deteriorating while everyone assumes someone else is looking after him.

These are not predictions. They are the private fears of a mother who knows that love alone cannot guarantee her child’s future.

Having relatives does not necessarily mean having a dependable support system.

Who will take the time to understand an autistic person’s needs, interests and personality? Who will check in, notice when something is wrong and speak up when support is needed?

If those relationships are not developed while a parent is alive, why should we assume they will appear after that parent dies?

Conversations about inclusion must go beyond words. Families need trusted relationships, financial safeguards, opportunities for independence and people who are genuinely committed to remaining involved.

For some autistic individuals, building and maintaining these support networks requires intentional planning. For solo parents, that responsibility can feel especially overwhelming.

I am preparing Nickolas for greater independence, but I cannot guarantee that everyone around him will always act in his best interests.

When I remember that young man on the road, I think about the people who once knew him. I think about the people who know my son, and I am left with one question I wish I did not have to ask:

What happens to my son when I am gone?

A Message to Parents

Whether your child was recently diagnosed or you have been navigating this journey for years, you do not have to do it alone.

We all need support. Sometimes, that support begins with a listening ear from someone who understands without judgment.

I invite you to reach out and become part of our Super Parents community, where we can learn from, encourage and support one another.

Tanya is an Autism Acceptance Advocate, Caribbean Sign Language Interpreter and mother to a young autistic adult. With two decades of experience as a biology educator and a passion for an inclusive society, she offers practical guidance and family support through a Caribbean-centred perspective on neurodiversity and community inclusion.

For feedback, comments and suggestions, contact Tanya at joseph.tanya2009@gmail.com or call/WhatsApp 1-268-789-9009.