My autistic brother, Keane, was diagnosed with the condition when he was four. At the time, I was a seven-year-old girl who didn’t understand much. I just knew my brother was different. I could see it in my parents’ eyes and the way they treated him and spoke of him. Things started becoming clearer to me when his teacher told my mom and dad that Keane didn’t belong to her classroom. According to her, he was better off with students “like him.”
But what did that “like him,” meant?
At the beginning, Keane was able to speak, although he never used full sentences, but when he reached four, the words became fewer, and eventually, he stopped speaking altogether.
Two years ago, our mother passed away. That meant that Keane didn’t have anyone to take care of him, and since sending him at a facility home was never an option for me, I decided to welcome him in. My husband hesitated at first, but both him and I knew Keane belonged with us.
A few months ago, I gave birth to my first child, baby boy Milo.
One morning, I put Milo to sleep and decided to take a bath while he was asleep. Keane, as always, was having his headphones on and was solving his usual puzzles sitting on the chair by the window, the one where he always sat.
I still hadn’t rinsed the shampoo from my hair when I heard Milo’s cries.
I rushed to rinse, heart pounding, soap still in my ears. But then… silence. Total silence.
When I walked in Milo’s room I froze.
My autistic brother was sitting in the armchair, holding his nephew in one arm and gently stroking his back in a soft rhythm with the other. In his lap was our cat, Mango. The cat was looking me straight in the eyes, as though she was trying to tell me not to ruin the moment.
Then, at one moment, Keane said his first words in over 20 years. “He was scared,” he said, speaking of my son. “I made him a heartbeat.”
I couldn’t believe my autistic brother said that. His words brought so many emotions that I started crying tears of joy.
I let Keane hold Milo until he calmed down and fell asleep in his arms.
In the morning, Keane followed me to the kitchen, something he had never done before. “Coffee!” he said.
“Keane, you want to have some coffee?” I asked him gently.
He nodded.
While I was making coffee, Keane turned to me and said, “I will watch Milo.”
Him looking me straight into my eyes felt surreal. He never looked anyone like that, but avoided eye contact at all cost.
Milo’s birth changed my autistic brother completely. He was now a new person. Someone I never knew existed.
Of course, whenever he watches Milo I make sure I check on them every now and then but I trust my brother and his love for my son enough to give them some time alone to bond.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace
