My brother Keane was diagnosed with autism when he was four — and soon after, he stopped speaking altogether. For over twenty years, silence became his language.
After our mom passed, I brought Keane to live with me. It was never a question — he was family.
Then, everything changed the day my son, Milo, was born.
One morning, while Milo was napping and I was taking a quick bath, I heard him cry… then silence. I rushed out, heart pounding — and stopped in my tracks.
Keane was in the rocking chair, holding Milo gently, Mango the cat curled on his lap. He looked up at me — and spoke.
“He was scared. I gave him a heartbeat.”
It was the first time I’d heard his voice in two decades. I burst into tears.
The next day, he asked for “coffee.” Then, looking into my eyes — something he’d never done — he said:
“I’ll take care of Milo.”
Since then, Keane has slowly started to speak again. Somehow, through my son, he found his voice — and his purpose.
