My brother, and only sibling, is one and a half years younger than I am, isn't married, and openly admits never wanting children. He has never been in a serious relationship. We all thought he came close once, but this relationship involved a woman that blatantly took advantage of him. She talked him into slowly giving her the thousands of dollars he'd saved over the years. And once the money was gone, so was she.
I've often worried about him feeling lonely. He lives alone in a room he rents in the attic of an old house. He lives there because he's not sure if "they" are still trying to get him. They may be. It wouldn't surprise me. And they may not be. I really can't tell because I love him so much my blood vessels almost burst right out of my body when I look into his brown eyes - eyes that haven't hardened even slightly since he was four years old. He feels safe on the top floor of that house and that's all that matters.
I sat next to him at the table wondering if he'd eaten anything yet that day as I watched him inhale a heaping plate of appetizers. My mind had started in on it's incessant loop again. With my chin in my hand, looking right at my brother, I once again started feeling sorry for myself that I had no experience what-so-ever with autism.
"Two of my kids are autistic," I said to him.
"Oh yeah? Huh..." he said swallowing whole chunks of cheese ball and looking into my eyes. Really wanting to know what that meant but not knowing how to ask, he continued with, "that's too bad."
"Yeah," I said looking back at him and not knowing how to sum autism up into one coherent definition, "too bad."
I got up, went into the living room, and sat down in the recliner next to the Christmas tree to watch my kids. My grandmother was keeping them busy by having them sort each family member's presents into separate piles. She used to have my brother and I do the same thing when we were little and I couldn't help but smile. The few minutes it took to sort the presents on Christmas Eve. were some of the most exciting moments of the entire year when I was growing up. These were the moments that built the delicious anticipation to new heights which would then be released into piles of baby dolls with real diapers, tinker toys, Star Wars action figures, and piles of sparkly paper all over the living room floor.
Isabel was really trying to help sort the presents, but she kept putting them into the wrong piles. Alden would then quietly correct her by waiting until she wasn't looking and then putting them into the right piles. I smiled even bigger as I thought about the fact that Alden and Isabel remind me in so many ways of how my brother and I used to be.
"Are we ready?!" Alden finally asked, "Is it time to open presents yet?!!!"
"Just a couple more minutes Alden," I said.
I looked down at the unwrapped box he was holding and the smile slid off my face. It was one of the three that my brother had brought in and it was from the Build a Bear Workshop in the local mall. My heart dropped two inches inside my chest while I allowed myself to envision what my brother may have gone through to get my kids these presents.
It got dark outside early that night. And it was so cold. The temperatures were stuck well below freezing while soft, fat snowflakes landed by the millions on the thick, dark ice that covered every square inch of each street. The snow plow guys were surely in sweaters next to warm fires, enjoying turkey dinners and opening presents with their kids as the streets disappeared under the storm.
Not knowing what kinds of toys my kids liked, what movies they were into, or what on Earth to get them for Christmas, he'd set out on a little journey to find something an hour or so before having to be at my grandmother's house for Christmas Eve. His perception of how long things take a little off, but doing the best he could.
Not thinking of the fact that toys are much cheaper and easier to access at a place like Target, he had driven his sometimes working car with it's sometimes working heater through the snow and over the ice all the way out to the home of our childhood toy store - the local mall. He parked and walked through the dark parking lot alone, not sure if it was safe or not, and went inside to where the old toy store used to be.
Upon realizing that our old toy store wasn't there anymore and not sure where else to go, he wandered around until he found the Build a Bear Workshop. Seeing that they sold toys, he went in and picked out three different bears. A brown one, a light tan one, and a dark sort of caramel colored one. He then took them up to the counter to purchase them as they were. Naked. And a well-meaning sales person started in on him with complications.
The salesperson explained to him, in front of everyone else standing in the line, that you're supposed to put clothes on the bears. She explained that you choose several items of clothing for each bear and dress them, giving each bear a distinct and flavorful personality to match the distinct and flavorful personality of the child the bear will belong to. She let him know the cost per item and wanted him to make snap decisions about the bear clothing. The cost per item was not an even number and was hopeless to multiply by four items or so for each bear and then multiply that number by three, while everyone was standing there watching him, smirking impatiently, and wondering why he hadn't just gone to Target for three naked bears.
He didn't know what they were thinking so he was immediately overly embarrassed because, like so may times in his life, he'd missed something that everyone else seemed to get. And not able to deal under pressure with complex directions and impatient people, he declined the sales person's offer of clothing.
"No thank you," he said, "I'll buy them like this."
Then she looked at him. Maybe surprised, maybe disgusted, maybe even downright irritated, he didn't know. But something. He'd missed something. Again.
After all that he was afraid to ask them to wrap the gifts and he left the store, glad he at least had something to bring my kids for Christmas.
I went back into the kitchen where he was finishing up his plate of appetizers and wanted to hug him.
"Build A Bear Workshop huh?" I said, looking at him.
"Yeah," he said, "they wanted me to put clothes on the bears."
"Well isn't that just silly," I said.
I still did not see it. I really did not see it. God had to put the puzzle pieces RIGHT in front of my face and then click them together with a snap.
Right then Isabel, who had just noticed that my brother was there, came into the kitchen. She walked over to him in her stiff, clumsy way and held her arm straight out in front of her up towards him. She waved her little hand. Just her hand moved, nothing else, and she said, "Hi! Hi! Hi!"
He turned to face her in his stiff, clumsy way and held his arm straight out in front of him down towards her. He waved his big hand. Just his hand moved, nothing else, and he said, "Hi Isabel."
And I saw it. I saw it softly and quietly, but it's weight was no lighter than a four ton boulder landing directly on my head.
