A letter to my younger brother, written by my mom:

Hey brother,

I’m hoping someday I can say this all to you. But there is a chance I might never be able to…I’m hoping that when you are older, you will read this and understand.

I know I confuse you. I’m so loud. I flap my arms. I don’t notice toys. Or play sports. Or like to leave our house.

I don’t play like you. I have never ridden a bike and I don’t care at all about hockey. And I know that really confuses you. But you don’t play like me either.

Sometimes I feel like you look right past me. But I guess I do the same thing to you, too. Mom says we seem to live on different planets and that we crash into each other every now and then.

You don’t make sense to me, Sawyer. I’ve overhead Mom saying she wishes more than anything that we could be closer.

You think I’m loud, Sawyer? And that my noises are weird? You should hear what you sound like to me. You make shooting noises and dance to weird music and argue with Mom and Dad about dinner time. I try to cover my ears. I try to ignore you. But sometimes I can’t.

Sometimes when I get so frustrated, I hit you. Never anyone else. And you hit me back. We wrestle a lot like brothers do. Mom says it sounds like an earthquake when we go at it.

You are my safe space though. You are my brother.

I know you tease me sometimes. I know your friends do, too. I’m like the annoying little brother…except I’m two years older. I wreck your forts. And smash your Legos. I’m always around when you and your friends are trying to play.

I eat your Nerf Gun Bullets. And follow you around. I like to sit near you and your friends, but then I get really nervous because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t understand what you are playing so I just laugh and roll and run.

I know you think Mom loves me the most. Because I take up so much of her time. But she loves you just as much. I see the way she is so proud of everything you do. I can’t do most of the things you do. So, I’m glad she has you, brother.

When you look back on our relationship, I want you to know that you mean so much to me. Even though I don’t show it in the typical way. But I’m hoping that someday, you’ll take notice.

I’m hoping that someday, I can learn to go and do things with you. I hope that when you leave for college you will come back and visit me. I hope you know how hard I try to make sense of your confusing world.

I’ve been carrying a picture of us around for 11 days now.

I normally only carry pictures of trains and boats. And Mom and Grandma. I like baby pictures, too. But rarely anyone or anything else. And I only carry them for a few moments at a time before I shove them under a couch or behind a bed.

I never seem to get too attached to any one photo, which drives Mom and Dad crazy. You know that.

Mom is the only one who noticed that a picture of you and me is my favorite. I know it confuses her because I don’t really seem to care about spending time with you. Or acknowledge you. But this one makes me feel safe. I like that we are hugging. You are paying attention to me and I’m paying attention to you.

I’ve been sleeping with this photo for a week now. I wish you’d notice. I love how we look so happy together. It’s my favorite.

If in years to come, I’m still not able to tell you I love you, please know that this is it.

I’m showing you. I’ve been showing you all along.

You are my safe space, brother.

“Sawyer” was the second word I ever learned to say. I was nine years old, brother. I said “Mom” first.

And then…“SSS-AW-ER.”

I ask for you the most, brother.

Love, Cooper

One of the elements of our life I love to shine a light on the most is the sibling dynamic. My name is Kate, and I am a mom to four amazing kids and the voice behind Finding Cooper’s Voice. My oldest, Cooper, has a diagnosis of severe nonverbal autism. When he was diagnosed at age three, his younger brother Sawyer was just turning one.

They grew up together. Neither of them knows a life without autism.

In the beginning, like most younger siblings, Sawyer fell in love with his older brother. He crawled after him. Then walked, then ran.

I could see the confusion on Sawyer’s face from a very early age. Why didn’t his brother want to play like him? Why did he seem to ignore him?

And then, as time went on, the questions came from Sawyer:

“Why doesn’t he talk, Mama?

Why doesn’t he play with me, Mama?’

And the hardest one, “Can I have autism, Mama, so Cooper will like me?”

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces with that one. But I never gave up. I knew it would take time, but these two would eventually see the love in each other.

Our family had a lot of hard years, many of which I shared in my book, Forever Boy, a Mother’s Memoir of Autism and Finding Joy. And threaded throughout the entire book…siblings. The little humans born into advocacy.

Today, my oldest two boys are 12 and 10. And their love for each other is fierce. It’s a loyalty, a devotion, a wrestling match, a hand held while crossing the street.

It looks different than most. But it’s not less, it’s more.

My younger children are four and two years old, and they adore Cooper, but to them, he is just Cooper. Autism, sign language, an AAC device (Augmentative and Alternative Communication), hands flapping in joy when a train drives by don’t seem odd or even stand out. Because he is Cooper. A super cool older brother. I know questions will come, someday. And once again, my husband and I will explain the beauty of an autistic mind.

Moms, Dads, if you worry about your own children, and what will come of their relationships, remember…

The best things take time. They need to grow.

So, plant the seeds of love, care, and advocacy. Model it in everything you do.

And watch it grow.

Kate Swenson, the Founder of Finding Cooper’s Voice and the nonprofit, The More Than Project, is a mother to four kids, a wife, and a proud Minnesotan. She writes and creates videos regularly about her life as a mother and an autism advocate for Facebook, Instagram, and her website, Finding Cooper’s Voice. Her book, Forever Boy, A Mother’s Memoir of Autism and Finding Joy, is available now and highlights the transformation that she went through after her son’s diagnosis. Her mission is simple. Help parents see the joy in the secret world of autism.