A concert featuring my brother was a true Christmas gift

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/dec/17/concert-brother-love-christmas

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As a result of being raised by agnostics, my own childhood experiences with nativity plays have barely imprinted themselves on my consciousness – all I can recall is standing in chapel in a tinsel halo with a vague sense of boredom, followed by years playing that role foisted upon all swots: that of the lectern-hogging, prissy narrator. But I have never forgotten my little brother’s special needs school’s Christmas concert.

Related: Christmas nativity plays – the importance of being Mary

At the time, it was unclear to what extent my brother really understood what Christmas was about. Celebrations in general tended to rather pass him by (he was 10 before he blew out his birthday candles). The food portion of the day was always a big hit with him, however, even though getting him to sit down to eat his Christmas dinner was a struggle (he’d usually pop in and shove a roast potato in his mouth before returning to his back-to-back episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine). His uneven haircut and odd socks stood testament to the fact that he was a ball of energy who could not sit still. As such, I admired the chutzpah of any teacher who took on the task of directing him in the school play.

My little brother was at a local school catering to children with all kinds of disabilities – I can only imagine what the rehearsals were like. The concert itself, which was held in a nearby theatre, was lovely. The main language at the school was Welsh – it was the teachers there who taught him how to say Siôn Corn, which is Welsh for Father Christmas. Much of the concert was in Welsh, too, though at the time my brother could barely speak. His role mainly consisted of being walked on stage with the rest of his class as part of a small chorus in which he took barely a cursory interest. He spent most of it flapping his hands as his carer desperately tried to stop him running around the stage or, worse, falling into the orchestra pit. But my God, did he look cute.

My mother and I both cried, because the concert was so moving

My mother and I both cried, because the concert was so moving. Each of the pupils showed off what they could do – one rode a bike, another sang beautifully. It didn’t matter to me that my brother wasn’t really into it – it was just nice to see him there, on stage in his red jumper, with all his friends; a community.

Nowadays he loves Christmas, and will sit down to eat his Christmas dinner. He talks about presents and Siôn Corn a lot in the run-up to Christmas, and I’ve even heard him hum a bit of Jingle Bells on occasion. You’d still struggle to direct him in a play, but he often goes to the theatre with one of his flatmates in the care home in which he lives. He also won a Christmas tree design competition a couple of years back. He built it out of birdboxes. He’ll never be a thespian, but I’m a very proud sister.