My Facebook memories often reveal a person I forgot I once was. Whether it’s echoes from a previous relationship, career, or mindset, there are always updates from years gone by to show me how far I’ve come.

I came across one yesterday that stopped me in my tracks. It was from February of 2011, one month before Lucas was born.

To my soon-to-be-born son – Even though I am sick, I just spent 4 hours painting your room. Please remember this when you and your sister are faced with the decision about putting me in a home.

This was before my boy arrived. It was before I knew his face, his personality, and that he would be non-verbal with autism. It was from a life that feels like it happened a hundred years ago.

Parents of children like mine often talk about the grieving process that goes into accepting a life for their child that was expected of them but will never happen. Typically, it’s Little League and school aspirations that have to be taken into account as non-starters. For my son, that happened with me.

Going to the autism-friendly preschool orientation was a big part of that process. I remember walking around in a haze and having to come to grips that my little man would, at the least, have a much different road ahead than I expected. I remember letting go of many previously held aspirations.

When it came to his relationship with his sister, I never really had to grieve that because I never really thought about it. She had her own relationship with Lucas right away and, as he grew and evolved, so did their bond. It might not have been as easily seen by those around them, but it was always there.

That said, I forgot that there was once a time when I pictured them differently together. Today, thinking about them having a conversation regarding my eventual placement in an old-age home seems alien. Picturing them having any type of conversation is alien. They don’t have traditional conversations.

It hit me to read that memory because I don’t remember thinking about that or even writing it. Rather, my goal today has always been to show my daughter that Lucas is her little brother, not her burden.

Making sure she knows that isn’t the easiest task. Lucas can be difficult to get a handle on and while I love that he and I have such a strong connection, I recognize that it’s not the norm in his life. Most might find him confusing and unaware of why he does the things that he does.

Whether it’s his understanding of concepts or the reasons behind his stimming motions, Lucas can come off as an enigma. In many cases, it can push people away from him. I don’t mean that they do it cruelly. I mean it in a realistic sense.

If you see a boy clapping or screaming and you don’t know why, the initial reaction most have is to stay away. His overwhelming happiness can sometimes mimic agitation and his agitation can sometimes appear to be happiness. I get that and I don’t fault anyone who approaches him in an apprehensive manner.

His sister is a teenager and, while she loves him, she’s also learning how to interact with the world. I completely get where her life is right now and how difficult it is to navigate the love of your family with the pull to be socially accepted in your microcosm of a world.

Heck, I’m easy to understand and she sometimes struggles with understanding me. I remember 15. I get it.

With so much time spent in her room on Facetime with friends, her face time with family can often be few and far between. I make assumptions about how she views us. Nine times out of ten, I’m wrong.

When it comes to her brother, I worry. I want her to love him but I also don’t want him to do anything that pushes her away. As one of his biggest advocates, I try to make sure that people who see him accept and understand him. It’s why I hover and why I try to be his voice in certain situations.

Last week, my daughter came out of her hibernation like a groundhog, and we had a chance for some television time together. It had been a minute, as the 15-year-olds say, and I was so happy to have her there. Lucas was there too, doing the TV thing he does.

What’s the TV thing? Well, it’s bouncing in front of the screen while we watch, clapping and screaming. Internally, I worried that this would be enough to send her back into hiding. I considered letting him go play in his room or, in the least, trying to explain to his sister how he was just being happy.

Of course, none of that was needed. I watched as she not only endured his television blocking but laughed when he grabbed her hand and kept leaning into her for the near-kisses he does during times of excitement. I didn’t have to explain to her what was happening. She got it. He was excited his sister was there with us.

That’s the relationship they have. For a girl who sometimes comes off like she’s not paying attention to family matters, my little lady gets it. She’s emotionally intelligent in ways that sometimes get masked by her adolescence. I watched as she showed me that I could be proud of her in all the same ways I’m proud of him. She showed that she loved her brother just as I do and just as I love her.

Will there be conversations between them one day? Maybe not in the way I imagined back in February of 2011. However, conversation isn’t always verbal. Her bond with him will be much like mine with him. You don’t have to use words when speaking to someone with your heart. She gets that. He does too.

If they have that, there’s nothing to ever grieve about.