Nothing Else Matters

I always thought that as Asaf’s mother, I knew my son. I knew what he liked to eat, where he liked to spend time, and I told myself I understood his gestures most of the time. People often asked me, “How do you know what Asaf wants?” and I would instinctively answer, “I just do.” Sometimes I thought I could see it in his eyes.

But the truth is, most of the time I was guessing. There were a lot of trial and error, and I never really allowed myself to ask what he was thinking or feeling. How could I? Asaf is non-speaking, and I believed he had no way of responding to me. I was told he had the cognitive functioning of a four-year-old, and that belief shaped everything , the way I spoke to him, the way I responded to him, the way I understood him. Short sentences. Repetition. Silence. My silence, and his.

Looking back, I know I sold myself a lie. I convinced myself that he was happy in his “autistic bubble,” that he was unaware that life could be different. Believing this gave me comfort — it was my defense mechanism, a way of protecting both of us from a painful reality I didn’t yet know how to face. I no longer blame myself. At the time, I was doing the best I could with the knowledge and tools I had.

In our first conversation ever, I asked him, “What do you want me to know?” His answer was simple but earth-shattering: “That I’m smart in my head.” In that moment, every belief I had carried about my son shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

It felt like giving birth to Asaf all over again, only this time he was 24 years old. For years, I thought I knew him or at least parts of him. But suddenly, through his words, I was meeting my son anew. Every sentence he typed was like a first cry, a first smile, a first step. It was the start of a different kind of life together, one where I could finally hear his voice.

Session by Session, week by week, I discovered more of Asaf’s amazing personality. His love for his family, how much we mean to him, his care and empathy for his friends in Merchavim. If you had told me a year ago that Asaf would have a group of friends that he communicates with and truly cares about, I probably would have smiled in disbelief, unable to imagine it. We discovered his sense of humor, his intelligence, his frustrations, his big heart. Each week, a small piece of him was revealed, and I was thirsty to learn more.

A couple of weeks ago, Asaf wrote that he loves Metallica. We were all completely nonplussed… how does he know Metallica? I’ve never played it to him, and heavy metal is definitely not for me. The first song he listed was Nothing Else Matters, and it was clear he loved it. Music has never been my forte I enjoy listening, but I can’t usually name a song or tell you who sang it. Often, my kids are in hysterics when I make up the words as I sing along.

But reading the lyrics of this song, I realized what Asaf was trying to convey. The words reflected the world he lives in, the way he experiences life:

I never opened myself this way Life is ours, we live it our way All these words, I don't just say And nothing else matters Trust I seek and I find in you Every day for us something new Open mind for a different view And nothing else matters

Through choosing this song, Asaf was also offering me a profound reminder. “Open mind for a different view” captures the essence of presuming competence, the courage to look past silence and behaviors, and instead believe in the intelligence, emotions, and inner world of those who cannot speak. Once we truly open our minds in this way, nothing else matters.

You can clearly see how much he enjoys it, how fully he is in the moment, he was even singing along in tune. It’s such a joyful, unexpected, and deeply moving window into who Asaf really is. These moments are my energy fillers , they remind me what is truly important in life.

Through his words, I am learning to see the world through his eyes, to witness his humor, his love, his intelligence, his frustrations, and his empathy. There is still so much more to discover, so many more slices of Asaf’s extraordinary self, waiting to be revealed. The message I hope to leave with my readers is simple: never underestimate a non-speaking individual. There is a whole world inside them, rich, deep, and waiting to be discovered. Sometimes all it takes is the willingness to truly see and believe.

Asaf may be non-speaking, but his mind, his heart, and his voice are louder than anyone could have imagined.

This Mornings Sunrise.