Music has always been an essential part of my family. As a little girl, I often watched my mom singing with others. As I grew older, she and I would sing while we did the dishes or hung clothes. My brother Dean was also a musical soul. In good time or in bad, there was always music in our house. It shaped us, comforted us, and gave us a way to express feelings that might otherwise have gone unspoken.
After Dean became a father, we learned that his oldest son was on the autism spectrum. My nephew Carl did not handle social situations well, and sometimes even to speak aloud outside the family for him was a struggle. He worked very hard to overcome his fears, so much so that the year he was eight, he decided he wanted to be part of a music program with the other children in his Sunday school class. The part he had been offered was one that required him to sing a verse all on his own—a solo.
My brother carefully explained to him that this would mean singing in front of the audience. There would be no one singing with him. Carl considered this very carefully.After a couple of days, he decided that he would accept the part. He explained to us that he believed he could do it because it was a very special occasion. He said he knew his daddy would help him to be the best singer.
For over a month, he and his father practiced together. Every evening would find them locked away in the music room. My brother played the guitar, and my nephew's small voice came from somewhere deep down inside his little body. He gained confidence, and when the day of the concert arrived, he was certain all would go well. My brother waited backstage, giving Carl double thumbs-up, and he came out to sit with the rest of the family to watch and take photos.
Paragraph 1: When it was finally time for Carl to sing, the music played on, and he froze.
Paragraph 2: Everyone turned to see who was singing, while I knew it was my brother.
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