Ever since my father’s death, I felt like I didn’t want to go back to home. What’s a home for me? Where’s my home? Living in my uncle’s house is considered as home? I know a lot of people would ask, “how about your mother?” I knew that she suffered a lot, not that I didn’t want to go back to see her, but, just the problem with my youngest brother.
Perhaps, not everyone goes though the same life as me. No one understands or knows the truth behind my life. People thought that I have the same life as them, enjoying an easy life. What they didn’t know was that I tried to keep my patient towards my youngest brother, at the same time, having a kind of hatred which would really want to kill him.
My youngest brother was declared as abnormal, whom suffers from a disease, which the doctor known it as autism. He can’t really talk since he was a kid. It was really hard for us as a family to understand what he wanted to say. We had to really guess what he wanted to convey. Sometimes, he would cry if his message could not get across, so that, we had to try to guess it again and again.
People might view him as stupid person. However, he isn’t a retard. He ever attended school, both primary and secondary, and he was so picky that he would choose the best homework with all the correct answers from his friends to copy. Also, he never got last in the exam, perhaps, bottom three or four – that’s good enough compared with a normal person.
I feel sympathy towards my mother. She is the one who has the determination to bring and fetch my youngest brother before and after school, walking with him, chasing after him if he ran. It is a hard life for her, but, she really hope that my brother can learn something in school, as well as he can socialize and mix with the normal people.
The situation started to shift ever since we moved from Bintulu to Mukah. In the beginning, he attended school as a normal student. Until one day, he came back from school screaming and shouting not wanting go to school again. Of course, my mother really feared that he would grow up as an individualistic. No matter how hard she advised him, he still insisted of not going to school.
I really doubt with what’s happening in school. Was the student bullying him? Teasing him? Was the teacher scolding him? Isolated him? Discriminated him? Isn’t it a teacher’s role to educate student, threat every student as normal? If the teachers there are good enough, why did my youngest brother not wanting to go to school? I was sure that something must happen in school.
So, since then, he was kept at home, behaving well in the beginning. He would volunteer washing every plate after meal, washing the toilet in the afternoon, mopping and sweeping the floor in the evening. It started to be his daily routine. People may say he was a good boy, but, that’s just the surface.
His behavior started to get worse each day. He would stomp his foot and shout if his message cannot get across. He would force my mother so say what he wanted until he satisfied. However, this started to get worse day by day. His demand was getting more and more, he would ask my mother to repeat the same thing again and again even though she got it right.
When I was studying in Kuching, I received a weird call from my mother. I knew it was weird because she called me when she supposed to be in church. It was really odd when I looked at the time, by which she wouldn’t ever call me around that – my dad only allowed her to call me after 10pm because the fare is cheaper. By the way she phrased her words and her intonation, as her child, I could feel that something was wrong.
With that strong instinct, I secretly message to my eldest brother since he was at home. Perhaps, he knew something. As I expected, something really did happen. My youngest brother purposely knocked his hard metal head onto my mother’s left eye brow, making a black spot. What I knew from my eldest brother was that my youngest brother was unsatisfied with something. I was really worried with my mum, so, I told my brother not to tell mom that I knew what’s happening. I knew she didn’t want me to worry.
On the next day, I receive another message from my elder brother, saying that my youngest brother was making another black spot on my mother’s right eye. What should I do? I can’t fly back there. I didn’t want to call back because I didn’t want my mother to suspend that I knew what was happening at home. So, I didn’t really call home and what I could do is just prayed hoping that everything would be alright.
During the holiday, I went back. In the car, my father told me that my brother had changed a lot. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone, and also, he didn’t want to do house routine. The only thing that he would do was washing plate. My father warned me not to wash the plate, even not to put them in the washing basin, after lunch and dinner. All I needed to do was left all the plate on the table after meal, and my youngest would do the rest. The worst part was that he wouldn’t want people to step into the kitchen when he was washing dishes.
He used to clean the toilet and sweeping and mopping the floor. Now, he didn’t want to do it. Everyday, after my father came back from work at noon time, he would force my father to bring him out. That would be the perfect time for my mother to wash the toilet and mop the floor. If my youngest brother knew that my mother did all that, again, he would behave madly. Of course, my mother is clever enough to use an unused cloth to wipe the floor.
During my father’s death, he excluded himself as family member. By the time my father’s death when he was at the side, my mother told me that he was laughing. Perhaps, he didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t really want to blame him, but, during the funeral, he didn’t want to look my father. No one dare to ask him to go and see because, everyone knew that he would misbehave there. In the church, he sat with my relatives instead with us.
It really pissed my off. My father loved him so much compare to the love he gave to me and my eldest brother. I was being punished when I did something wrong, compared to him, never! Did he ever suffer the punishment I went through? Being spanked? Locked in the washroom? Dragged and pushed outside the house and lived there alone at night? My father never treated him that way! What he wanted, my father would buy for him. Me? Nothing! Even, he will lecture first before giving me the money – just 20 sen.
My youngest brother really enjoyed a lot. Should I not to blame him because he suffered from autism? Was that a merely excuse for me not to scold him? What should I do to make him realize? He didn’t know the luxury that he had all this time. Whatever he wanted, my parents would fulfill. Was this an excuse for him not to talk so that my parents will love him more?
My mother really didn’t know what she should do. If she left him alone, he would be kept in his own world, being isolated. But, the more she cared him, the more he refused. Even, it was really hard to talk to him. He just covered his ears or switched on the radio loudly when my mother wanted to talk to him. A little voice from my mother, just like a needle dropped onto the library, he would stomp his feet.
Talking about stomping his feet, that’s the way he wanted to get attention from people. When he is really mad, he will stomp his feet and shout. What I meant by shout didn’t mean that he shouted like a normal person with words coming out. No words were formed, just merely yell and cry. He won’t care with his physical pain by stomping the floor. Even he himself won’t realize that his toes and nails were bleeding, yet, still stomping.
Actually, I didn’t really want to return home because I can’t find peace at all. Everyday, my brother would yell, shout, and stomp the floor upon small matters. I really had enough of his cried! My mother asked me to keep silence when he was mad. Yet, sometimes, I really can’t control myself, I would scream at him for I know that if I talked to him nicely, he would shout and didn’t listen to what I said. If ignoring him and kept silence, I worried that my mother could not really stand it. I knew she really suffered a lot when I was not at home. Really, there is no peace for me at all.
There is also a limitation for me in this house, i.e., there is no freedom at all. He would scream if I switched on the light, if I closed the door, if I closed the curtain. All the minor things, he would make it like so serious, so emergency, so big. That day, I helped to close the shampoo lid and he really cried and yelled for about an hour. My mother didn’t know what to do to stop him so she took the shampoo, wanting to throw it away. He snatched it away and threw it on the floor. Then, all the stupid behavior stopped. The lid was broken.
Looking back at this life and my future, what should I do if my mother passed away? I didn’t really want to keep him. Perhaps, my eldest has the same view too. I don’t want him to be a burden of my life, no privacy, no freedom, and no peace at all. The fear, that his attitude would affect my career, always stay in me – might be called back every time if he was mad? Also, couldn’t use the things that belong to me – controlled by him?
Even, because of that, I would afraid to invite friends to my house. What if he unable to control himself when my friends were around? That’s what my parents never invited people to overnight at our place. Could you imagine, he ever forced my grandmother, who came all the way from village to overnight at our place, to go back in the midnight? He would force the people to go back when “His Time” is out. Everyone needed to follow the time he set but not for me.
Just because I love my mother, I have to go back to spend my holiday with her. At the same time, I would avoid my brother. I totally give up and really didn’t know what I should do for him. The road to the future is still far and the life expectation will be more challenging but I’m afraid not for me.
Perhaps, not everyone goes though the same life as me. No one understands or knows the truth behind my life. People thought that I have the same life as them, enjoying an easy life. What they didn’t know was that I tried to keep my patient towards my youngest brother, at the same time, having a kind of hatred which would really want to kill him.
My youngest brother was declared as abnormal, whom suffers from a disease, which the doctor known it as autism. He can’t really talk since he was a kid. It was really hard for us as a family to understand what he wanted to say. We had to really guess what he wanted to convey. Sometimes, he would cry if his message could not get across, so that, we had to try to guess it again and again.
People might view him as stupid person. However, he isn’t a retard. He ever attended school, both primary and secondary, and he was so picky that he would choose the best homework with all the correct answers from his friends to copy. Also, he never got last in the exam, perhaps, bottom three or four – that’s good enough compared with a normal person.
I feel sympathy towards my mother. She is the one who has the determination to bring and fetch my youngest brother before and after school, walking with him, chasing after him if he ran. It is a hard life for her, but, she really hope that my brother can learn something in school, as well as he can socialize and mix with the normal people.
The situation started to shift ever since we moved from Bintulu to Mukah. In the beginning, he attended school as a normal student. Until one day, he came back from school screaming and shouting not wanting go to school again. Of course, my mother really feared that he would grow up as an individualistic. No matter how hard she advised him, he still insisted of not going to school.
I really doubt with what’s happening in school. Was the student bullying him? Teasing him? Was the teacher scolding him? Isolated him? Discriminated him? Isn’t it a teacher’s role to educate student, threat every student as normal? If the teachers there are good enough, why did my youngest brother not wanting to go to school? I was sure that something must happen in school.
So, since then, he was kept at home, behaving well in the beginning. He would volunteer washing every plate after meal, washing the toilet in the afternoon, mopping and sweeping the floor in the evening. It started to be his daily routine. People may say he was a good boy, but, that’s just the surface.
His behavior started to get worse each day. He would stomp his foot and shout if his message cannot get across. He would force my mother so say what he wanted until he satisfied. However, this started to get worse day by day. His demand was getting more and more, he would ask my mother to repeat the same thing again and again even though she got it right.
When I was studying in Kuching, I received a weird call from my mother. I knew it was weird because she called me when she supposed to be in church. It was really odd when I looked at the time, by which she wouldn’t ever call me around that – my dad only allowed her to call me after 10pm because the fare is cheaper. By the way she phrased her words and her intonation, as her child, I could feel that something was wrong.
With that strong instinct, I secretly message to my eldest brother since he was at home. Perhaps, he knew something. As I expected, something really did happen. My youngest brother purposely knocked his hard metal head onto my mother’s left eye brow, making a black spot. What I knew from my eldest brother was that my youngest brother was unsatisfied with something. I was really worried with my mum, so, I told my brother not to tell mom that I knew what’s happening. I knew she didn’t want me to worry.
On the next day, I receive another message from my elder brother, saying that my youngest brother was making another black spot on my mother’s right eye. What should I do? I can’t fly back there. I didn’t want to call back because I didn’t want my mother to suspend that I knew what was happening at home. So, I didn’t really call home and what I could do is just prayed hoping that everything would be alright.
During the holiday, I went back. In the car, my father told me that my brother had changed a lot. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone, and also, he didn’t want to do house routine. The only thing that he would do was washing plate. My father warned me not to wash the plate, even not to put them in the washing basin, after lunch and dinner. All I needed to do was left all the plate on the table after meal, and my youngest would do the rest. The worst part was that he wouldn’t want people to step into the kitchen when he was washing dishes.
He used to clean the toilet and sweeping and mopping the floor. Now, he didn’t want to do it. Everyday, after my father came back from work at noon time, he would force my father to bring him out. That would be the perfect time for my mother to wash the toilet and mop the floor. If my youngest brother knew that my mother did all that, again, he would behave madly. Of course, my mother is clever enough to use an unused cloth to wipe the floor.
During my father’s death, he excluded himself as family member. By the time my father’s death when he was at the side, my mother told me that he was laughing. Perhaps, he didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t really want to blame him, but, during the funeral, he didn’t want to look my father. No one dare to ask him to go and see because, everyone knew that he would misbehave there. In the church, he sat with my relatives instead with us.
It really pissed my off. My father loved him so much compare to the love he gave to me and my eldest brother. I was being punished when I did something wrong, compared to him, never! Did he ever suffer the punishment I went through? Being spanked? Locked in the washroom? Dragged and pushed outside the house and lived there alone at night? My father never treated him that way! What he wanted, my father would buy for him. Me? Nothing! Even, he will lecture first before giving me the money – just 20 sen.
My youngest brother really enjoyed a lot. Should I not to blame him because he suffered from autism? Was that a merely excuse for me not to scold him? What should I do to make him realize? He didn’t know the luxury that he had all this time. Whatever he wanted, my parents would fulfill. Was this an excuse for him not to talk so that my parents will love him more?
My mother really didn’t know what she should do. If she left him alone, he would be kept in his own world, being isolated. But, the more she cared him, the more he refused. Even, it was really hard to talk to him. He just covered his ears or switched on the radio loudly when my mother wanted to talk to him. A little voice from my mother, just like a needle dropped onto the library, he would stomp his feet.
Talking about stomping his feet, that’s the way he wanted to get attention from people. When he is really mad, he will stomp his feet and shout. What I meant by shout didn’t mean that he shouted like a normal person with words coming out. No words were formed, just merely yell and cry. He won’t care with his physical pain by stomping the floor. Even he himself won’t realize that his toes and nails were bleeding, yet, still stomping.
Actually, I didn’t really want to return home because I can’t find peace at all. Everyday, my brother would yell, shout, and stomp the floor upon small matters. I really had enough of his cried! My mother asked me to keep silence when he was mad. Yet, sometimes, I really can’t control myself, I would scream at him for I know that if I talked to him nicely, he would shout and didn’t listen to what I said. If ignoring him and kept silence, I worried that my mother could not really stand it. I knew she really suffered a lot when I was not at home. Really, there is no peace for me at all.
There is also a limitation for me in this house, i.e., there is no freedom at all. He would scream if I switched on the light, if I closed the door, if I closed the curtain. All the minor things, he would make it like so serious, so emergency, so big. That day, I helped to close the shampoo lid and he really cried and yelled for about an hour. My mother didn’t know what to do to stop him so she took the shampoo, wanting to throw it away. He snatched it away and threw it on the floor. Then, all the stupid behavior stopped. The lid was broken.
Looking back at this life and my future, what should I do if my mother passed away? I didn’t really want to keep him. Perhaps, my eldest has the same view too. I don’t want him to be a burden of my life, no privacy, no freedom, and no peace at all. The fear, that his attitude would affect my career, always stay in me – might be called back every time if he was mad? Also, couldn’t use the things that belong to me – controlled by him?
Even, because of that, I would afraid to invite friends to my house. What if he unable to control himself when my friends were around? That’s what my parents never invited people to overnight at our place. Could you imagine, he ever forced my grandmother, who came all the way from village to overnight at our place, to go back in the midnight? He would force the people to go back when “His Time” is out. Everyone needed to follow the time he set but not for me.
Just because I love my mother, I have to go back to spend my holiday with her. At the same time, I would avoid my brother. I totally give up and really didn’t know what I should do for him. The road to the future is still far and the life expectation will be more challenging but I’m afraid not for me.
