A father’s promise to be different from his own parents faced a profound challenge when he made the difficult decision to place his son in a group home for care. Steve Burcham, a father from St. Petersburg, Florida, found himself grappling with the realities of parenting a child on the autism spectrum, necessitating a choice that he had vowed he would never have to make.
Chris, who was born breech, came into the world signaling an unconventional journey for both him and his father. As a nonverbal child, Chris communicates through gestures and humming, finding unique ways to express his needs and feelings. However, a frightening incident when Chris wandered outside alone prompted a reevaluation of what was best for him.
One morning, Steve discovered Chris was missing. After a frantic search and a call to emergency services, it was revealed that Chris had walked a mile barefoot to a local grocery store, seeking safety. A stranger had followed him, ensuring he remained unharmed until the police arrived. This incident marked a turning point for Steve, who became a single father, balancing his career with the demands of caregiving.
As Chris grew, the conversations surrounding the possibility of a group home became increasingly common. Professionals advised that such a facility could provide the structure and safety that Steve found increasingly difficult to manage alone. “His physician, who’d known Chris since he was 3, was direct: A group home could offer the supervision I couldn’t provide,” Steve recalled.
Yet, the thought of sending Chris to live with strangers stirred deep emotional turmoil in Steve. Having experienced abandonment himself at the age of six, when he was taken to live with his grandparents without explanation, he feared that Chris would feel similarly lost. Steve had made a promise to himself that he would not repeat the cycle of leaving a child behind.
The day Steve parked outside the group home, he felt as if he were that six-year-old boy again, wrestling with feelings of fear and loss. As Chris entered the home, he moved through the space with ease, exploring his new surroundings as if he belonged there. Steve watched as his son adjusted to the environment, taking solace in the familiarity of the rituals that had defined their lives together.
When the time came to say goodbye, Steve found it difficult to embrace Chris fully. The absence of his parents during his own childhood echoed in his mind, reminding him that goodbyes often came without closure. Instead, he and Chris shared a moment of understanding. “He was ready in a way I hadn’t expected,” Steve noted.
Following Chris’s transition to the group home, Steve was subject to a standard protocol preventing him from visiting for 30 days. During this time, he received updates and photographs of Chris engaging in various activities, which helped ease his anxiety. Over the weeks, he began to recognize that this decision was not about breaking a promise, but rather evolving it to ensure Chris’s well-being.
“I was wrong to think I was the only one who could care for Chris,” Steve reflected. “I had to learn to let him go for both our sakes.” Each morning, he turned to Romans 12:12 for encouragement: “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” This mantra became a source of strength for him, guiding his journey through this challenging chapter.
Now, Steve visits Chris weekly, and they often share meals and take long drives, reminiscent of their earlier days together. Chris enjoys the sensation of the wind on his face as they cruise with the windows down. Steve takes pride in the progress his son is making, embracing the reality that true support sometimes means stepping back to allow others to help.
In navigating the complexities of caregiving and personal history, Steve Burcham’s story stands as a testament to the resilience of parental love. It illustrates that sometimes, making the hardest choices can lead to the most profound growth for both parent and child.
