My autistic brother, Keane, was diagnosed with the illness at the age of four. At the time, I was a seven-year-old girl with limited understanding. I knew my brother was odd. I could see it in my parents’ eyes and the way they spoke about him. Things became evident to me when his teacher informed my parents that Keane did not belong in her school. According to her, he would be better off with students “like him.”
But what did the phrase “like him” mean?
Keane was able to communicate at first, though he never used entire phrases; nevertheless, as he approached four, his utterances grew fewer, and he eventually stopped speaking altogether.
Two years ago, our mother died. That meant Keane didn’t have someone to look after him, and because sending him to a facility home was never an option for me, I opted to take him in. My husband was hesitant at first, but we both realized Keane belonged with us.
My autistic brother sat in the armchair, holding his nephew in one arm and lovingly caressing his back in a slow beat with the other. Our cat, Mango, sat in his lap. The cat was gazing me straight in the eyes, as if she was trying to tell me not to spoil the moment.
Then, at one point, Keane spoke for the first time in more than two decades. “He was scared,” he remarked, referring to my son. “I made him a heartbeat.”
I couldn’t believe what my autistic brother stated. His remarks made me cry tears of delight.
I let Keane hold Milo till he relaxed and went asleep in his arms.
My autistic brother sat in the armchair, holding his nephew in one arm and lovingly caressing his back in a slow beat with the other. Our cat, Mango, sat in his lap. The cat was gazing me straight in the eyes, as if she was trying to tell me not to spoil the moment.
Then, at one point, Keane spoke for the first time in more than two decades. “He was scared,” he remarked, referring to my son. “I made him a heartbeat.”
I couldn’t believe what my autistic brother stated. His remarks made me cry tears of delight.
I let Keane hold Milo till he relaxed and went asleep in his arms.
In the morning, Keane followed me to the kitchen, which he had never done before. “Coffee!” he announced.
“Keane, you want to have some coffee?” I asked him gently.
He nodded.
While I was preparing the coffee, Keane turned to me and said, “I will watch Milo.”
It seemed odd to have him stare me right in the eyes. He never looked at anyone like that and avoided eye contact at all costs.
Milo’s arrival brought about a total transformation in my autistic sibling. He was now a different guy. Someone I didn’t know existed.
Of course, anytime he watches Milo, I make sure to check on them from time to time, but I trust my brother and his love for my kid enough to give them some alone time to bond.
