The way it feels to know your older brother needs your help in the most desperate way. It’s to know that you are, in fact, his only brother. That when other people don’t get him… you do.
The weight of the thought just beginning to lay its place. The innocent ignorance still in tact not knowing what the future actually holds. The gift of knowing only what he knows and accepting it as truth.
It’s his normal. He’s his brother who can’t speak “English” he likes to say. It’s so endearing. It’s profoundly moving and immaculately pure. He’s “HIS brother” as he would say. No debate about it, no moment of shame. The pride of being a defender while still getting annoyed as any brother would. He’s the big little man. He knows, that his brother is more capable than others say.
He checks him now. Something I frankly have not done in a while. A refreshing reminder that with Autism there is more going on in there then we often think. That they can do more. That they are, pridefully so, often elated to show it.
“Eric, come help me!,” Jack playfully cried. He had been rollerskating around the house (btw, with about no extra room to be doing so..) complete in his underwear and robe.. living his best life of course. Inevitably, he took a spill. Me, standing over top of him glowing as I said “Seeeee, I told you so!” We laughed as he laid there a minute. “Eric, come help me!” He giggled out. “Baby, I don’t think he’s going to understand you” I adoringly told him. “Yes he does!!!” He piped back. “Watch!”…
He got himself up and skating close to Eric.. intentionally dropped himself to the floor. “Eric, help me!”.. no avail. “Eric, come Eric help me” as he reached his hand in the air, “Eric come on and help me please!!”.. and with it, he drew him in. Eric chuckled on his way to help his brother up. Erics fragile hand reaching out to Jack.. locking eyes to let him know he was there… gently helped Jack to his feet as his trainer skates slid around.
Jack was right. YES HE CAN.
It’s the moments like this. The inherent compassion within us. The refusal of accepting it’s just.. because. That no,.. he can do more and if we don’t push him at times, his abilities will stay locked away. That we need to stop accepting things are so just because someone says it.
Ten years and one week apart they are. There are nights like this I know just how blessed I am to be experiencing such a vast difference of parenting. To have conversations with your child… to have them communicate back. To be funny and witty. To hard hug around the neck and actually say “mommy I love you”.
Perfectly imperfect we are. Childhood compassion… the belief you can do anything… the world not yet big enough that you allow the noise of it to distract you. The little big brother who will not accept a “because” as enough and who becomes the friend his brother always needed.
I, am a blessed woman.
“Whoever loves his brother, lives in the light.”
1 John 2:10
Screw Spilled Milk 