When Andrew D’Eri, a silent, withdrawn toddler, was diagnosed with autism, his father, John, was confused. “What is autism?” he asked the family doctor. His befuddlement about his two-and-a-half-year-old boy’s condition soon turned to denial: It can’t be my son, he thought. This isn’t happening. That gave way to the hope for change: He’s going to grow out of this. Or for a cure: We’ll find a miracle. By the time Andrew was a teenager, John had grown to accept that “Andrew is who Andrew is,” but he began to worry about what would happen to his son when he outgrew his school years. Would he ever get a job? Where would he live when John and his wife, Donna, grew too old to care for him? The realization that his son might never be able to lead an independent life gnawed at him.