Ralph is my younger brother. He’s 41 now, and he has autism. For as long as I can remember, our parents, Alex and Lydia, have poured their love, energy, and patience into caring for him. They have given him a life full of dignity and stability. They’ve done it with such quiet grace that it often amazes me- the way they know every detail of his routines, the way they advocate for him at his group home, and the way they never stop protecting his joy and well-being.
Growing up, I didn’t always notice how much work it was. To me, it just felt like family. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized the depth of their selflessness. Their whole lives have been organized around Ralph’s needs. Every doctor’s appointment, every meeting with staff at his group home, every plan for the future- they’ve carried it all with a sense of purpose.
Now, as they get older, I know the responsibility will one day shift to me. It’s a daunting thought- I won’t pretend otherwise. But it’s also an honor. My wife, son and I have talked about it, and we are committed to carrying forward what my parents have built. We’ve been learning from them, watching how they manage details big and small, how they blend compassion with structure.
I want Ralph to feel the same sense of safety and love with us as he has always known with our parents. I want him to continue to laugh at the little things that bring him joy, to feel seen and cared for, to live in a world that respects him.
Sometimes people say that taking on such responsibility is a sacrifice. I don’t see it that way. It’s a continuation of love, a family promise that began with our parents and will carry on through us. They have helped shape who I am. They’ve taught me patience, empathy, and what unconditional love really looks like.
And so, while the road ahead may not be easy, it feels right. It feels like home.