Zayn

When I was twenty three years old, my beloved grandmother had passed away unexpectedly. A lot of time was spent over at her house- my mum was too drained emotionally to take care of the things that were unimportant to her at that time. The house needed to be emptied as quick as possible so it could go up for sale, somebody needed to arrange the whole funeral, send the cards, somehow get the money for it somewhere.

Thinking back about that time- it was extremely hectic, extremely sad. Zephaniah had been five at that time and because I had no caregiver around that time yet, no woman who could take care of him, I brought him with me everywhere I went as I was trying my best to do every thing I could for my Mum, in order to lighten the burden she was taking with her upon her shoulders.

Zephaniah had felt the heaviness of all emotions around that time way too well- he was exhausted by the end of the day, every single day until the funeral. He had been extremely quiet, even quieter than he normally was. His complexed mind and beautiful eyes observing everything around him.

He understood the emotions perfectly fine, he sensed everything. However, he didn't understand why she was gone, out of all sudden. Sometimes, when we were lying in bed at the end of the day, he would ask me these questions that always teared me up.

His thinking was so deep, why did a five years old bother?

I didn't know it had triggered this much, when it came to his autism. When the funeral came, I had taken Zephaniah with me- I had no other option. The atmosphere was really heavy, especially for him- he was a really sensitive little boy.

He constantly crawled against me, panicking when I accidentally let go of him.

My family was in a rush- even on the funeral itself there were still so many things that needed to be settled. There was this small, beautiful room where the coffin was, a photo present. I asked my aunt; is the coffin closed fully? I knew Zephaniah wouldn't be able to handle it, emotionally, to see her like that.

My aunt had looked at me, I could tell she was distressed. She said yes, so I took Zephaniah's hand in mine and entered the small room after people I didn't quite know, had taken their time to say their last goodbyes to her.

I had turned to my little boy and told him specifically that the coffin, where grandmother was, would be there, but it would be closed so he wouldn't see her. I had asked him if he wanted to see the coffin to say goodbye to her- I still remember his wide, big eyes, his face nodding slowly while the grip onto my hand became tighter.

I took him inside. The coffin wasn't closed.

Zephaniah didn't understand the situation; he stood still, perplexed. His big eyes lingered on my grandmother- he didn't say anything. I mentally scolded my aunt; I was furious. She knew I had been there with my little boy at that time. Why had she lied?

I had to lift him up in order to get him out of his frozen spot. He hadn't said a word- his eyes still wide, small, pink lips parted. I told him that I was sorry- I didn't know. Eventually, when the service began, Zephaniah started whistling.

At first it was soft, but when they rolled the coffin inside the church, it became louder and louder. People had looked up at him, then at me. Couldn't you keep that, disrespecting child, quiet?

I tried, I tried so hard to keep him quiet, but it only became worse. He whistled harder and harder, faster and louder- he didn't stop. That's when he broke- his hands flapped rapidly, his eyelids blinking faster than ever. He started screaming, he started hitting, kicking, biting. Himself- but me as well.

My heart thumped louder than it had ever done before- the judging looks on people's faces, the cursing, the nudging against me because my child was being so extremely disrespectful on a funeral.

I had lifted him up, tried to keep my lips tight as he truly hurt me- physically, at that point. I didn't know what to do- he was a danger for himself, a danger for me and the others surrounding him. He was hurting himself, he was hurting me.

I remember lying his small body down onto the floor, keeping his legs down with my own, his arms beside his body as my strong hands held his wrists, so he couldn't hurt me but most importantly- not himself. He had screamed and screamed and screamed- nothing seemed to work, but eventually, he had calmed down completely and he bursted out into crying. My aunt had not understood my question because of her emotions, she had said yes in a hurry. I had specifically told Zephaniah he wouldn't see her because the coffin was closed; it wasn't.

The coffin had rolled into the room we were sitting in- Zephaniah was terrified to see her again, he became emotionally too overwhelmed, especially since the busy and heavy days from before were still processing in his little mind.

It was one of the most severe meltdowns I had ever experienced, and only a few of these had came back years later. The one where he needed a bath with the woman that had assaulted him, when he had gotten into puberty, I didn't think there were more. Until today.

It had been days since Cooper's death, since he came back from Amsterdam. I still wasn't quite sure if something had happened there- each time I tried a conversation about the trip, he turned his face away and he would start stimming.

He hadn't been to university, I had insisted that he would stay home, because I knew things could escalate. Probably, it was too overprotective from me, but maybe I had felt this would happen at some point, in some way.

Hannah was breastfeeding Jedidjah, I sat beside her on the bed, softly stroking my daughter's fuzzy hair. Zephaniah was downstairs, eating something. He hadn't talked much after Jedidjah was born. In fact, he had barely said a word to the both of us. I knew he was upset, but I honestly didn't know what to do.

I wondered where Haven was, weren't they good friends, lately? He needed her, especially since Cooper had died. Perhaps, carefully I could ask him about it.

Sniffles were heard, I looked up. Tears rolled down Hannah's cheeks and my heart jumped at the sight of it. "What's wrong, love?" I frowned, softly brushing away her tears.

Hannah shook her head, her gaze still on Jedidjah's face. "Zeph.. I've barely seen him ever since she was born. Doesn't he want to see her, still? I can't do this any longer, Zayn. We're my family and your family back from seeing her because I promised that Zephaniah would be the first one to see her."

Her pain hurt me, I hadn't really thought about it. It had been a day or two since Jedidjah's birth and every time we tried for Zephaniah to meet her, he had started stimming and getting into several shut and melt downs that we simply couldn't force him.

"I'm sorry." Slipped out, in a way feeling responsible for Zephaniah's behaviour, even if both of us knew that wasn't the case at all. It wasn't even Zephaniah, it was his autism.

"No, sweet." Hannah smiled a little, tenderly touching my cheek. "We had talked about this. We knew it could happen, but I just didn't.. do you think he will ever?"

"I'll see what he's up to, babe." Kissing her lips for a brief moment, I placed them onto Jedidjah's small head after that, standing up to leave the room. I gave Hannah a smile, trying to encourage her, even when secretly, I was maybe encouraging myself even more.

Stepping down the stairs, I could see Zephaniah standing in the kitchen, his expression slightly unreadable, but I could sense his discomfort. His eyebrows were furrowed, his fingers fidgeting with the butter knife he was holding in his hands, staring at his empty sandwich. He whistled so now and then- he was close to being overstimulated.

"Hey, Zeph. What are you looking for?" I figured, his expression seemed lost.

"Why there's no- no grilled chicken anymore." Zephaniah said right away, his eyes frantically looking around. "And the dog food is empty but I-" he stopped, laying down the butter knife to flap his hands.

Sighing softly, I opened the cabinets, realising the dog food was empty, but I didn't think of buying new ones when there was no dog to give it to. "I'm sorry, I forgot to prepare the grilled chicken. Do you want me to do it now?"

"No!" Zephaniah spat out, shoving his plate, that was on the kitchen counter, away. "No, no. It will take too long." He seemed to be frustrated, my heart started thumping each time it did when he was about to get a meltdown.

"We do have Nutella.. and it's really no problem if I need to prepare some grilled chicken for you, really." I said quietly, trying not to trigger him.

"I said no!" Zephaniah's face crumpled as he scrunched up his nose and squeezed his eyes closed. The frustration that battled in his mind became much clearer, I tried to search for something that would help him feel calmer.

Then the realisation hit me.. it was Cooper, had always been Cooper. It must have been the reason why he hadn't had those severe meltdowns around him, only one time when he had gotten into puberty. I swallowed, realising what a gap Cooper had left behind once he flew.

Opening the fridge, my eyes quickly scanned the food, seeing we really didn't have grilled chicken anymore. I glanced at Zephaniah, his breathing seemed erratic, his whistling becoming louder. He was looking at his plate, but glanced at me so now and then, his fingers fidgeting with his bracelet rapidly.

One touch, one sound, one word, and it would escalate.

Grabbing the toaster, I decided to silently make him toast with Nutella- I knew he liked that, he ate it every single day for breakfast. And that's where I went wrong.

Once I had placed the prepared toast onto a plate and shoved it towards him, he shoved it back instantly, tugging at his hair. "That's breakfast not- not lunch!" The tears glistened in his eyes, I knew it wasn't about the food, but truly what was going on inside his mind.

"I'm trying, Zeph." I said, hating how the desperation was so audible in my voice. "What do you want?"

Zephaniah's expression changed, he squeezed his eyes again, his nose scrunching up. He let out a few, muffled cries, his eyes flickering between several things. They lingered onto the empty cabinet, and the bowls for Cooper. "Dog food why- why there is no dog food anymore."

"Zeph, the food would only.. get moldy if no dog would eat it.." I answered, trying to search for his eyes, but he was too upset to even glance one second.

"You don't- you don't understand!" Zephaniah shoved the plate away harder, it fell into the sink with a loud thud. It upset him, he stuffed one finger into his ear while his eyes kept flickering in between different things we had standing in the kitchen. Suddenly, he started kicking the feeding bowls from Cooper, the water that had been in his drinking bowl sloshing out.

It wetted his foot, he became upset at the feeling of the cold water onto his sensitive skin. He picked up the bowl and threw it onto the floor, more muffled cries leaving his closed mouth. It was innerly, as if he was screaming on the inside to let out his emotions.

"Zeph, don't break-"

He let himself fall onto the ground and started screaming, loudly. I wanted to reach for him, but he kicked me instead, my shin burning from the sudden pain. I pursed my lips, not wanting a scream to erupt from my own throat. Zephaniah moved himself closer, continuing to kick me from wherever he could reach me.

"Zephaniah, stop. You're hurting me." I said, trying to be clear, but even I knew that this wouldn't work.

Zephaniah only screamed harder, his hand reaching for my sweatshirt. He roughly pulled at it, almost bringing me down with him. I took his hand in mine, wanting to remove it from my shirt but instead he brought it over to his mouth and bit me with a lot of strength, my adrenaline pumping.

"Hey, stop that!" I said, loudly. Cringing when I heard myself, knowing it wouldn't make sense to Zephaniah's mind at this point, anyway. Zephaniah screamed louder and louder, his legs now kicking anywhere in sheer helplessness. He squeezed his eyes closed, pushing all of his strength into his muscles.

He wanted to hit something around him- it wasn't directed towards me, but his foot still managed to land right into my face. My eyes teared up at the sudden, stinging pain, but I knew I couldn't blame him for it. No talking, no talking. I told myself, knowing it could only worsen things at this point.

His foot came in contact with the table, he found something solid to pour out his emotions on. The vase started to waver- I could see it falling into his face so before that could happen, I knew I had to do something to make sure he wouldn't harm himself even more.

He started smacking his head against the floor, loud screams and cries leaving his parted lips. Tears welled up in my eyes- it always killed me to see him like this. The vase wavered harder, I shoved his legs away and watched how he brought the fabric of his sweatshirt up to his mouth, chewing onto it.

It muffled his screaming, but didn't stop him from hitting and smacking himself and the things around him. Many people had their doubts about physical restraint- but if my son was hurting himself so badly, I couldn't think of anything else, anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I held his legs down with my own, putting some weight onto them as I sat down. I reached for his wrists and pinned them down onto the floor, stopping him from damaging and hurting himself.

"No, no, no!" Zephaniah screamed, but he wasn't able to open his eyes. He chew onto the sweatshirt as if it was food, his whole body, even his exposed upper body, transpiring by the heaviness of his meltdown.

He was hurting, deeply, from the inside and outside.

Tears flowed out of my eyes, watching how my son was helplessly lying beneath me. His face crumpled in emotions- he was trapped in his own body, trapped in his own mind. Not being able to process and express the heavy emotions and feelings he was experiencing at the moment.

That truly broke a father's heart, I watched my tears falling down onto his exposed stomach, I hoped he didn't feel.

It took him about five minutes before I could feel how Zephaniah's strength was fading- and each time it did fade slightly, I loosened my weight onto him, giving him the space to recover and not feel suffocated. Hannah had come downstairs as well, but Jedidjah was crying in her arms.

I glanced at her, my view blurry. She cried as well, and turned her face to the baby. "Did we make a mistake?"

I looked at Jedidjah as well, motioning for her. "Did we?" I answered, shaking my head after that. "Of course not." I whispered, feeling how Zephaniah's erratic breath, surely but slowly, became more even.

The turning point came- Zephaniah broke down completely. He cried and cried and cried, giving up all of his strength. I let go of him instantly, giving him the time and space to recover. The crying part was a good part- for Zeph. It meant that after his crying, things would clear up in his mind again.

Hannah put Jedidjah down for a nap, I stayed crouched down by Zephaniah's side, who was still lying onto the floor, crying his heart out. He rolled onto his side and pulled up his knees, holding onto them.

I softly stroked his cheek, removing the fringe that was stuck to his forehead due to sweat. The wetness around his lower area confirmed that he had urinated, accidentally. I felt bad for him, knowing how much he hated it- but he had been too upset, too caught up in his complexed and broken mind that he couldn't feel it.

That proved that my boy couldn't help it. If only people would see that a meltdown wasn't a tantrum. There was so much more behind it all, behind the autism.

Lying down beside him, I tenderly kissed his cheek, letting him know that it was okay, that he was loved. I watched my broken son silently, letting him recover fully, my heart wrenching.

It took him about an hour to calm down completely, then he began to speak.

"Baba.." Zephaniah sat up, his destroyed face and bright eyes were beautiful, but broken. He spilled. He spilled everything; about the overwhelming Amsterdam trip, about how his heart was so broken about Cooper, about how he had no contact with Haven anymore; missing her more than anything but didn't dare and hadn't given his mind the space and time to reach out to her, how the change of the baby became too much for him, how his mind just trapped him and pushed him far, far away in that endless tunnel he tried to explain so well.

His story was all over the place, he stuttered and stammered, but I thanked God that my autistic son was verbal, that he was able, in his own ways, to speak out his thoughts; something that Hannah and I, most importantly Cooper had taught him, Haven in different ways.

Wrapping my arms around him, I held him tightly, letting him cry out on my shoulder. "It's alright. I love you, Zeph."

Zephaniah hummed as he cried, resting his cheek onto my shoulder.

I knew I needed to give him more space- not coming up with solutions right away but let him recover from the past few days, before I could get into action for him. He was exhausted right now, but one question burned awfully much.

"Would it give you some rest if you met your little sister? You can hold her if you want." I kissed his temple, brushing the tears off my face. "It might help you process the change.."

Zephaniah glanced at me, his eyes were bright but the exhaustion could be seen into them as well. He nodded, I swallowed my emotional tears away. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe I can- maybe I can let it go after." Zephaniah whispered, letting me dry his face.

"Freshen up a little, Zeph. When you are ready, come to our room, okay?" I said quietly and slowly, knowing how all- over the place his mind could be after a meltdown.

Once we were both upstairs, I smiled at Hannah and kissed her lips, holding our sleeping daughter. It took Zephaniah half an hour to recover and walk into our room, but once he did, he looked down, his cheeks flushed pink.

He fidgeted with his fingers, his eyes flickering all over the floor. I wasn't sure if he was ready for it- but eventually, he looked up. His eyes landing onto Jedidjah right away.

Zephaniah crawled onto the bed, in between Hannah and I. He quietly stared at his little sister for moments long, no words were exchanged. I held her up, Zephaniah opened his arms for her. Her tiny head rested onto his arm, Zephaniah started crying.

I didn't know if he let his last, difficult thoughts go, or if he was suddenly so aware of everything around him, but Hannah and I engulfed our two kids into the biggest, safest and most loving hug we had ever embraced them in.

~~~

Man.. what do you think of this chapter?

Zeph's meltdown? Understandable?

Zeph finally meeting Jedidjah? Do you think he'll be able to let it go now? The thoughts?

Zayn coping with Zephaniah's meltdown? The physical restraints?

Let me know your thoughts! Only TWO chapters left guys.. vote comment feedback much appreciated ❤️

Zephaniah did NOT hurt Zayn on purpose. His mind was so full, complexed, not being able to express and process everything well that he couldn't express it differently.