I see you, faithful dad

Yesterday while I was at the library, I witnessed something so lovely that I want to share it with you.

As I pulled up my car, I noticed an older dad, talking with a teen son with down’s syndrome. They were huddled in intense conversation, I imagine, reviewing the steps for completing this mission of independence. And then, with resolve, the young man looked both ways, crossed the street, and entered the library, his dad trailing shortly behind. He planted himself in a corner chair near the entrance, and the teen made a bee-line for a specific book, which happened to be right near where I was standing. (I was beginning to feel a little voyeuristic at this point, but I was also starting to cheer for the scene that was unfolding.) The dad held back, gaze locked in, watching his son from afar. His son approached the desk and completed the check out. The dad waited long enough to watch his success and then quickly exited before his son to meet him back at the car. The dad’s smile was enormous and his joy palpable as his son neared the car. And then they broke out in celebration, both throwing their hands in the air honoring his victory. It was strikingly tender and precious to witness.

I may be assuming some things inaccurately as I saw this beautiful little interaction unfold, but as I drove away, I imagined the very long journey this dad has been taking with his son. I could see the scene in the context of the heartache, the waiting, the learning to accept, the anxiety, the coaching, the trying and failing and trying again, the holding back, the supporting from afar, the extending of independence while raptly waiting nearby… and likely 1000 other strivings that I can’t see, bearing the marks of a long, long parenting journey full of longing for his son. I see you, faithful dad.