My Autistic Son's Love for His Sister Is Different, Never Less

Bear with me because you are going to need a little (OK, a lot) back story so I can really set the stage and do this moment the justice it deserves. I know without a doubt I am going to fall short with my clumsy, fumbling, inadequate words, but I’m going to give it a shot.

Imagine a curly-haired, bright-eyed little girl who fills the room she enters with sunshine, joy and giggles. A little girl who looks at everyone as a potential best friend, playmate and fun partner, including her two big brothers. Whether it was teachers, friends, family or neighbors, everyone who this little love’s light touched appreciated the warmth of her light, save one — her middle brother Ryan.

Or so she thought.

No matter what this sweet little girl did, no matter how bright her light, her kindness, or the gifts she bestowed upon him, her light could not seem to penetrate the barrier her brother had surrounded himself with, a barrier that seemed impervious to her light and love. She was bewildered by this exceptional being, yet determined to reach him.

She tried with gifts (often hidden under her bed unopened for fear of rejection). She tried sharing his interests and appreciating his musical gift by showing up to his events and showering him with praise, and eventually even following in his musical footsteps. With each attempt, a crack in this self-imposed barrier was breaking down, but she couldn’t see it yet.

Please understand that this brother was not immune to her love, he just didn’t know what to do with this silly, impish, giggly love from his baby sister. A brother who is so practical, so serious, so black and white could not begin to comprehend the assortment of colors that radiated out of his little sister’s soul. He loved her with all his being, he just didn’t understand her or know how to connect with her.

As a mother, it felt like an arrow piercing my heart when I would hear his quipped response to a question she had asked, then watch her walk away, head down, feeling rejected. Then the arrow in my heart sunk deeper as I saw the dismay and confusion on his face as he tried to process what went wrong. I tried to facilitate, to explain and to help guide both of them. Sometimes I was better at it than other times.

Then, the moment.

I have never been more grateful for laundry as I was on this day, because if not for the dreaded task of this dismal job, I would have missed the moment. Upon Ryan’s arrival home from college for the semester, he ran into the house to see his dog first, because of course he did. Then Dad appeared with a huge smile and a hug and shortly after that, big brother showed up with a sweary script exchange for just the two of them (I’ve given up on stopping this and now often join in…we are a sweary bunch). Emma was still in virtual school, so her greeting didn’t happen until several minutes later when Ryan was upstairs and I was coming up the steps, laundry basket in hand.

Ryan was in his room when he heard the quickened steps of his still somewhat ebullient, mostly happy (with intermittent hormonal mood swings) now 14-year-old little sister come running down the hall. I watched the moment unfold and it will be seared in my memory for a lifetime. Ryan, alerted to his sister’s bouncy footsteps, jumped out of his room and into the hallway, opened his arms, picked his little sister up and swung her around in an enormous bear hug. And then in his best “Kyle talking like a grown-up to a baby” voice, Ryan smiled and said, “Hi baby sister! I missed you baby sister! I love you baby sister!”

The smile on my face didn’t even compare to the smile and joy radiating from Emma’s beautiful face. It was the love, the hug, the acknowledgment and the reception she had been waiting for as long as she could remember. Her light, her warmth, her love had always been penetrating that tough exterior that she didn’t understand, because it wasn’t so impenetrable after all. This shield, this wall, was never meant to keep her out, it was meant to keep him safe from this glorious creature that he has always loved but whose actions and behaviors were such a mystery to him.

Later, both of us still smiling, I said to Emma, “That was quite a greeting.” The look of surprise and happiness on her face as she exclaimed, “I know!” was so deserving, so fulfilling. I told her the best love is worth waiting and fighting for and that love comes in all shapes and sizes. We don’t have to fully understand someone to love them, and their reaction to our love may not look like what we expect, but that doesn’t mean our love is not valued or appreciated.

Ryan always felt the warmth of Emma’s love and light. He may not have understood her, but he always understood her love for him. And in the absence of that light for an entire semester, in one moment, in one hug, Ryan let Emma know that her light was never met with darkness. It was being soaked up at a rate and an intensity that Ryan could absorb in his way, in his time. His love for his sister may look different, but it has never been less.

I wiped away my tears and went to fold the laundry, smiling perhaps for the first time, while sorting socks.