Building Hunter a Way Forward
A family's campaign to give our son a space of his own
Hunter is 25 years old, severely autistic, and nonverbal. He communicates mostly through gestures and behavior, with very limited words. This year, he ages out of every state-supported service he has left. Most people never think about what happens to a child like him when that day comes. We think about it every day — and this year, we're out of time waiting for a system to catch up.
The Reality We Live
Hunter spends 8 to 12 hours a day in front of a computer screen. Not by choice — because there's often nowhere else in his day for him to safely burn energy, regulate his body, or engage his senses.
He lights up when he has a task to do: folding laundry, putting away groceries, spending time in the hot tub when it's available, or taking brief trips out on our property to watch wildlife. Give Hunter a purpose and his whole demeanor changes. Take it away, and he retreats back to the screen.
Caring for an adult son who cannot tell us what he needs is a 24-hour, 365-day responsibility. Everything in his life runs on routine — bathing, grooming, feeding, every transition — because routine is the only language that reliably reaches him. Introducing something new, even something that might genuinely help him, means walking into the unknown without him able to tell us if it's working or if it's hurting.
Hunter communicates distress by tapping or hitting to get our attention. Because of this, most programs and facilities won't accept him. We spent years fighting the state school system for year-round educational support, and the answer has always been the same: he isn't disabled enough to qualify. So every summer, he disappears into hours behind a screen, surfacing only for meals, the bathroom, or the rare moment his grandparents visit.
When we try to take him out into the world — a drive, an errand, anything outside these walls — he can act out in ways that would be read as violent by anyone who doesn't know him. As an adult, that risk is real: assault, a police response, a situation neither of us could undo. We avoid it, which means we avoid a great deal of the world most families take for granted.
There is no relief built into our week. No standing respite care. When I travel for work, my wife carries 100 percent of his care alone. When she travels to support our other children and grandchildren, I carry it alone. Neither of us has support to manage that responsibility. The only breaks we get are the rare evenings his grandparents are able to come sit with him so we can have dinner alone. Hunter depends on us for 100 percent of his care, and we've built our lives around the belief that his wellbeing is entirely our responsibility to carry. It is exhausting. It is also not something either of us would trade — but exhausted parents build worse solutions than supported ones, and we're asking for help building this one right.
I gave years of my life in service to this country. I'm not asking anyone to repay that. I'm asking for help giving my son the one thing I can't build alone.
The Forgotten Generation
Families like ours run into what's known in the autism community as the “services cliff.” Once a child ages out of the public school system — typically around age 21 — they lose access to nearly all the structured support and therapy services they relied on for years. There's no equivalent system waiting on the other side.
The numbers are stark. Roughly 50,000 autistic youths age out of school-based services every year in the U.S., and more than half end up living at home with their parents well into adulthood, with 40 to 50 percent unable to find employment. For those with severe, nonverbal autism like Hunter, the gap is even wider — most public programs and funding are built around individuals who can advocate for themselves, participate in group settings, or work toward independence. That leaves families of the most profoundly affected kids to build the solutions ourselves, at home, on our own dime.
Hunter ages out this year. That's what this project is. Not a want — a workaround for a system that was never built for him, on a deadline we don't control.
Why This Space
We can't fix the system. But we can build Hunter a space in our own home where he gets real movement, real therapy, and real time outdoors instead of another hour in front of a screen — safely, and on his terms.
What We're Building
- Slip-resistant flooring — Hunter is ambulatory, not a wheelchair user, but sensory processing differences affect his balance on slippery surfaces, and limited grip strength adds to his fall risk. This flooring, along with the gym equipment, directly supports his physical therapy needs.
- Climate-controlled room (electrical upgrade, including a dedicated 240V run, plus mini-split system) — Michigan swings from 90°F summers to 10°F winters; this makes the space usable year-round, not just three seasons.
- Hydrotherapy tub — warm water therapy supports muscle tone, circulation, and sensory regulation in a way dry-land therapy can't replicate for him.
- Adaptive gym equipment — structured physical activity he currently doesn't have consistent access to.
- Basketball rim — recreation, motor development, and something that's just fun, not clinical.
- Roll-up garage door with window lites — replaces a failing exterior door and brings in natural light, which matters more than it sounds for a room he'll spend real time in.
- Groomed trail access plus a tractor and brush hog — lets Hunter get outside the room entirely, to observe wildlife on the 4 acres we've developed specifically for habitat. For someone who spends most of his day inside, that's not a luxury — it's some of the only unstructured, sensory-rich time he gets.
Budget Transparency
We're not asking for a lump sum and hoping for the best. Every dollar below is mapped to a specific, necessary piece of this project — you can see exactly where it goes.
We also welcome in-kind help. If you're a contractor, installer, or supplier who could donate or discount labor or materials for the flooring, electrical, HVAC, or door install, we'd be glad to talk. For the gym equipment and tractor implements specifically, gently-used items are absolutely welcome — this project doesn't need to be new, it needs to work.
The Ask
Hunter ages out of state services this year. There's no extension, no grace period — the support stops on a date, whether or not we're ready. That's the timeline we're working against.
If you can give, thank you — every amount gets us closer. If you can't, sharing this with someone who might is just as valuable. And if you know a resource, a grant, an in-kind supplier, or a program for families like ours, we'd genuinely love to hear about it.
Closing
We can't give Hunter the words to tell us what he needs. But we can give him a space
