For some people, inclusivity is just a buzzword. For my family, it means so much more. My younger brother Patrick was diagnosed with autism at the age of three. I was five at the time and didn’t realize that Patrick would eventually have relationships that would look different than mine. As we got older, I started making friends, but Patrick’s limited verbal nature made forming deep relationships with peers very difficult.
At first, it was hard seeing many of my friends include their younger brothers in games while Patrick wouldn’t join. He wouldn’t play Wiffle ball with us in the cul-de-sac or take part in neighborhood hide-and-seek. But I soon realized that even though Patrick wasn’t participating, just being included meant everything to him. My friends picked up on this, too. They would talk to Patrick as they got up to bat. When they came over to play video games, he would sit nearby with his tablet, smiling while watching us shout about how unfair Madden NFL was.
Still, Patrick’s emotions and speech were difficult to decipher. My family could understand his wants and needs, but others couldn’t. This is why it is always special to me when someone who is not a family member makes a real connection with Patrick and notices his love for the world around him.
One such moment occurred when Patrick was out to eat with my parents. Patrick’s greatest love is family, but food comes in a close second. He’s not a picky eater, and he has made sure we know it. While I was home doing homework I received a text from a friend with a teary-eyed emoji: “Patrick stood up to shake my hand.” It was something so simple, yet incredibly important to me. My parents later confirmed that when Patrick saw my friend at a local restaurant, he had stood up, walked over, and shook my friend’s hand. That seemingly small moment meant so much to me and my friend—it was a moment that revealed Patrick’s deep appreciation and love for others.
However, despite incredible moments like this, Patrick still was not developing close friendships with his own friends. This difficulty inspired my desire to do something not only for Patrick but for all those enduring loneliness due to a disability.
In high school, I found the perfect way to channel this drive: Hoya Helpers, a student-run organization that fosters inclusive relationships for students with special needs. (The hoya is our school mascot.) The purpose of Hoya Helpers was important to me, and I quickly took on a leadership role. I saw with my own eyes how service could bridge social gaps and create spaces of joy, inclusion, and understanding.
Soon, every child we served had a dedicated Hoya Helper who visited them once a week to hang out, help with homework, and be a wonderful friend. Patrick was part of the program and was paired with Gavin, a new friend who quickly became an important part of his life. Patrick loved their walks to the neighborhood park and spent countless hours bonding with Gavin. Over time, their connection deepened, and now whenever Patrick sees Gavin he lights up with joy. A framed photo of the two of them sits on Patrick’s bedside table, a reminder to our family of Patrick’s capacity to form meaningful connections despite his disability.
Through his bond with Gavin and his growing comfort around my friends, Patrick has made connections in ways I hadn’t imagined. Hoya Helpers gave Patrick the space to build confidence, and my friends often reflect on how far he has come. Whether it’s smiling at someone he recognizes or standing up to greet one of my friends, his interactions have become more meaningful. These moments of connection have brought Patrick and my family so much joy. It’s in these little victories, like a handshake or a smile, that we see how much Patrick has grown.
Today, on World Autism Awareness Day I realize just how much my brother has taught me about the world. He has inspired me to join and lead a volunteer organization. Ultimately, growing up alongside Patrick has taught me that relationships have the power to change lives through small victories and powerful moments.
