a peak

I had an opportunity today while I was out with my eldest daughter and baby boy, grocery shopping, to see an “elderly” man with Down syndrome. They must have arrived shortly after we did to the store, and as we were weaving our way through the store, I felt compelled to speak with this woman he was with. She was apparently older than him, and not only did I wonder at the relationship, I also wondered how the man was doing–how’s his health, how old is he, how is he doing, is he happy? The woman was accompanied by the man I already mentioned, and a younger man, who looked like a typical young man.

At one point, the younger man actually commented on my baby as he passed us going down an aisle. I asked my daughter if she would like to speak to them. She looked puzzled and asked, “Do you?” I said I did, and that if we passed them again, I would say something.

It happened, then, that we were on the same aisle, again, but at opposite ends. We needed something else towards where they were, and so headed towards them, only they didn’t come my way, but continued down the long walk that goes past all the aisles. I was truly compelled in my heart to speak to the woman.

We caught up with them just as she was turning away from a sales demo. I said, “I just had to say hello to you, this is my little boy, he’s four and a half months old, and he has Down syndrome.”

Okay, right now you’re thinking I’m quite odd. I must say that when our son was born, we became part of a much larger family, only I didn’t know it at the time. All the people I have met since his birth whose lives have been closely touched by a person with Down syndrome have a certain camaraderie. Those with immediate family members suddenly become an extension of our family. Why? I don’t know, it must be the common bonds, the understanding, the knowing. It’s not like a “been there, done that” kind of thing, because we’re all in the middle of it, more like “I’m right beside you, and I know. . . “

So, does the woman get offended at my effrontery? No, she said, “Ohhh, your son? Really? How old? Ohhh, he is so sweet.”

We stood and talked for about a half an hour. Her son is 59 years old. That is incredible! Truly! She told me when he was born, the doctors didn’t expect him to live past 12. Her other boy has autism. He had a camera with him that he took a picture of my baby with, and they are going to mail it to me. She is so glad I spoke to her. So am I.