For the first time I my memory, my 21 year old autistic brother while leaving my room said he loved me. All I said was "love ya bro," like I always do. In the 19 years I've known him, he's yelled and hit me more times I can count, we've slowly drifted apart in development, and we've had times where we both have been happy together. But this is the first time, someone for whom life is set against, he clearly expressed that he enjoys that I am his brother. Just three words "Love you too", and I've been brought to sobbing my eyes out.

When I told my mother and father, she hugged me and I wept into her shoulder saying, "He doesn't hate me". All while he was in the basement playing his music, oblivious to the torrent of emotion upstairs.

Growing up, I had to become the third parent. I had to grow up just too quickly. Because even though my parents are so strong, there is just too much that is unsaid about mental disability. The sibling always being the one to make sacrifices so that things would be easier.

But now, out of school, he is an aspiring artist who is now finally trekking out his own life, a happy life. He got a call the other day that his work is to be displayed in Beijing as an international guest piece. The look on my parents faces never had such a proud visage, almost like the years before were just bad dreams. Those three words "Love you too", I think healed a bit of the hurt from those dark and early years.