Non Standard Issue: Bro

I was seven when I first caught a glimpse of my baby brother. He was a cute and cuddly creature swaddled in a diaper. However, because of an ill-timed case of conjunctivitis, it was only after a few days that I had the chance to hold him. Being the only child for seven years, I was very happy that at last Mama and Papa had finally given me a playmate.

Thirteen years later, my brother has grown into a handsome lad. He is even taller than me. He likes watching TV and laughs at the commercials with music and dance. He dislikes getting dirty, and often changes clothes many times in a day. His hobbies include scanning pages of glossy magazines, tearing them into tiny pieces, and scattering the colorful confetti in our living room and kitchen. He watches hawk-like over his small collection of odds and ends, and throws a tantrum whenever someone touches anything. As in his toddler years, he stays up late at night, and sometimes, when bad dreams visit him, he cries for hours.

At an age when many teens are experiencing the first stages of maturity, my brother is still at a loss on how to process his dreams, thoughts, and emotions. He is engaged, not in adolescent rebellion, but in the actions of a child who is lost and confused, who is a stranger not only to his family but to himself as well.

Autism is the thief that stole my brother away. It came unexpectedly, and it took me and my parents a while to understand its implications. At first it seemed to us like medical mumbo jumbo, especially when we watched him behaving exactly like other toddlers his age. He crawled, walked, clapped, made “beautiful eyes,” making us hope that the doctors had misdiagnosed his condition.

Then the signs hit us—the uncomprehending stare, the repetitive actions, the lack of verbal skills. I know it must have been pretty hard on my parents when they realized that whenever my brother said “Mama” and “Papa,” it was possible he was only parroting these terms from memory and not because he associated them with people who love him deeply.

We are not wealthy but we managed to scrape up enough money to enroll my brother in a special school. But because my father had to go to work and I to my classes, it was only my mother who took him to his sessions. It was not easy because we live far from the school and my brother can get very unruly. We survived for a while on this routine, but eventually, it proved too difficult for my mother to discipline my brother in public. And the long trips took a toll on her frail health. On top of everything else, even with a partial scholarship my college education was draining my family’s finances. So my brother had to stop going to that special school.

Fortunately, there are special public schools closer to our home, and my brother went to some of them. There are also people who are always willing to help children like him. I am eternally grateful to the teachers and student interns who went out of their way to visit our house and teach my brother, and to other parents and concerned people who put up helpful online resources on autism.

Still, I know that what my family did and is doing for my only sibling are simply not enough. And it saddens me to admit that I am not really a model sister. In the past 13 years, I can barely count the occasions I spent quality time with him. There were even instances when we both ended up crying because he bit or pinched me, and I shouted at him in retaliation. I have grown more mature over the years, but sometimes I find it easier to retreat to my room whenever he throws his tantrums.

But more than the wounds and the scars, what really make me shed a tear are those times I see other girls with their brothers. Never did I experience sibling rivalry because in my case, even though my parents continue to pour a lot of attention on my brother, it would be quite foolish and selfish of me to feel any sort of envy or resentment toward him. But you know what? I will choose any time the occasional bickering over the most mundane of things just to hear my brother call me “Ate (elder sister).” It will also be okay for him to eat my share of the food, declare full control of the TV’s remote, or tease and play jokes on me, in exchange for the comfort of knowing that no one will stare curiously at him whenever he goes outside the house. I will prefer that he play the role of a tiny devil in my life than that of a prisoner in a shell that even we who love him cannot break for him.

I love my brother to death, but it can be really overwhelming to think of the responsibilities that are now on my shoulders. I have earned a college degree and, thankfully, was able to land a job that can start me on a good career path. But this is not simply about me, because I know that ultimately I have to measure up to the sisterly responsibilities I had lamely fulfilled in the past. This time, I should be able to fill the gap in my brother’s learning and guide him toward creating a better future for himself.