Earle Martin - The Boy Who Saved My Life: Walking Into the Light with My Autistic Grandson

He was two and a half, and everything came to a halt.

He stopped speaking. He wouldnt answer us.

He wouldnt look at us.

We were frightened.

We couldnt leave him alone and isolated in his world.

We were determined to fight for him.

As for me, I somehow knew I must open up myself to him in a way I had never done with anyone. I had to come out of my dark world to meet him in his world. If I were going to help him, together we had to walk hand in hand into the light of a better world.

I was haunted by the fear I didnt have enough in me to give to him. I would come to know he had enough in him to save my life, and rescue my soul.

2365 Rice Blvd., Suite 202 Houston, Texas 77005

Copyright 2011 by Earle Martin
Illustrations Copyright 2011 by Roxana Wieland

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval devices or systems, without prior written permission from the publisher, except that brief passages may be quoted for reviews.

ISBN 978-1-936474-01-1

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in Publication Data on file with publisher.

Art Direction and Design by Ellen Peeples Cregan

Editorial Direction by Lucy Herring Chambers

Printed in Canada

Charlie looks up at me, and says,

I dont know what I would do without myself.

Once again, I smile.

And I think to myself,

I dont know what I would do without him.

DEAR READER,

You may think the title of this book is astounding or overly dramatic, but the story behind it is rather simple. I have lived it. It is true. Because it is true for me and can be true for you, I hope you will read it.

In the following pages, I will tell you how Charlie saved me. I will share with you where I was when he appeared, and how he breathed life into me.

I think you will begin to develop a sense of what I am talking about. But I also think you will have more questions. How did all of this happen? And just who is Charlie?

I will try to answer your questions by telling you about our search for Charlie, who had become lost and whom we so desperately had to find. I will share stories with you so that you might know him better.

Then I will address you, for whom I am writing this book, and share how you might have your life profoundly changedperhaps even savedby your own Charlie.

Last, I will share my hopes for the future: for you, for me and for Charlie.

I hope you might read my words more than once. Reflect on them and ask what you might do after you set the book down.

Sincerely,

Earle Martin

To Charlie, my best friend

To Charlies mom,
Melinda.
Charlie, his dad Sam and I will tell you
she is the best mom ever.
And as Charlie once said to Connie Hooper,
his high school teacher,
She could be a doctor or a teacher or
anything else she wants to be,
you know, at home.

And, to your Charlie.

I ask you to begin here,
so you will understand what comes after

I ask you to begin here,
so you will understand
what comes after

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT CHARLIE. He is my grandson. He is my best friend. This is a love story.

Charlie saved my life, and I want to share that with you.

I believe there is a Charlie waiting for you, waiting to be your best friend.

Charlie has autism, and you will learn what he and his family have done over these many years for him to be the best he can be.

Charlie, to whom introductions are very important, recently said to me,

Im sorry that I didnt introduce you to myself earlier.

I will introduce Charlie to you, and describe how both he and I gave all we had to introduce each to the other. Just so you know, early on he couldnt say Pop or Pops, so I became Pots. He would tell you,

My best friend in the whole wide world is Philip.

Also his precious orange tabby cat, Annie.

But, as I said, Charlie is my best friend.

This is also a story about you and your Charlie, who can be your best friend and change your life. Pause and think about that. Your Charlie can be your best friend and change your life. If you are like me, he or she can perhaps even save your life.

My Charlie likes to say,

This is my lucky day!

Knowing him makes everyday my lucky day. Finding your Charlie can be your lucky day.

With grave hesitancy, I share Charlie with you. His person. His character. His words. A priceless and yet vulnerable treasure. The way he reaches out and gives so much of himself. With an innocence and a pureness, yet without the rugged defenses you and I take for granted.

I must trust you not to hurt him, label him, nor mock his words. If that were to happen, I cant describe how sad I would be. Sad for you. Sad for me. And, most important, sad for Charlie.

When his little brother, Andrew, was seven or eight years old, he told me, If anyone hurts my brother, I will put them in a room with snakes, cover them with boiling water, and shoot them. Well before Andrew knew Charlie had autism, he knew he had to look out for his older brother.

When he was thirteen, Charlie carefully looked at me and said,

Dont laugh at me.

I couldnt stand your laughing at him. Rather, I invite you to enjoy him. And to smile, and even laugh, at his words. But let yours be a kind and joyful laughter.

About his words. He lost his language when he was two and a half, and didnt regain it until he was almost five. His words, cherished and carefully chosen, carry deep significance for him. He still works on them, saying,

I want to get them just right. You know, just perfect.

What do I mean when I say, He lost his language?

As a toddler, Charlie was a child who talked. Then, without any warning, he just stopped talking. From time to time he could say isolated words, a word here, a word there, always with our strong prompting. But he really couldnt put words together. He couldnt say a sentence. He was without the ability to use his language, which most of us just take for granted. Would he ever be able to find it, to use it? We desperately hoped he would, all the while fearing he might not.

And then it happened. After two and a half years, just shy of his fifth birthday, it happened.

It was early on a Sunday morning, and Charlie had spent the night at our house. He and I walked down the stairs to have breakfast and watch a tape of one of his favorite childrens television shows. And he fell. He wasnt hurt, just falling down a few carpeted steps. He got up, and turned toward me. He looked up at me, and said,