I casually made the left turn into the parking lot of the local high school and proceeded down the driveway, making my way down towards the end near the football field where there were still empty spots available. I had only been here one other time, when I attended a workshop on long term planning for your special needs child several years prior. Today, it was much more crowded, with people streaming out of their cars and making their way into the school entrance near the auditorium. This was not any other special event during the school year, with parents, grandparents and siblings all overwhelming the doors and being directed to their respective seats. This was different, with balloons dangling on strings, hands cradling bouquets of flowers, and an air of excitement that was not like any other day. This was graduation day, for my son’s 8th grade class.

     When I finally found a parking spot and pulled in, I paused for a few minutes before getting out of the car. I was early enough so there was no rush, and I was also waiting for my girlfriend who was also coming and would be there soon. Those few moments sitting in my car turned out to be the first of many flashbacks to memories of years past, memories of raising my son, mostly while still married but some while divorced the last couple of years. The first memory that jumped out was that of his first day of middle school, as I remembered back to what seemed like a genuine lifetime ago, in reality only less than three years earlier. It was such a different world, a world before Covid, a world where I was still married and we were still a family, and we stood in the driveway of our shared home on that still warm and sunny late August day. The bus from the special education district was late as usual, which seemed to be a kind of tradition every year during the first week and specifically, the first day of the new school year. We decided to walk him ourselves down to the school entrance, which was easy enough since it was only a few blocks from where we lived. It was a walk that we had taken a million times before, whether it was to go to the park that was next to the school where I frequently walked my son and the dog around, or to the public pool and splash park that was connected to the park. He excitedly walked up to the side entrance of the building across from the park, our hands barely keeping him from tripping over his own feet as we finally saw one of his aides and passed him off.

     When I recognized my girlfriend’s car I got out of mine, and met her as we started our winding path through the parking lot, and into the auditorium for the school. I was definitely anxious for a bunch of reasons, first and foremost was running into parents of kids my son had attended school with for years. Kids that he had grown up with, and in many ways, parents we had grown up with as well. I was half hoping to avoid contact with them since it legitimately had been almost three years since I had contact with them as well. Covid had certainly kept me apart from nearly all of these folks, but so did divorce, and my worry now was what their reaction would be upon seeing me. What did they think of me? Did they have thoughts or opinions of me now that I was the divorced dad? What conversations did they have with my son’s mom that I wasn’t privy to? My eyes spotted a couple of familiar moms as we entered the building, both of whom I intentionally didn’t engage with, since I was quite honestly too nervous to go there.

     One of the moms I noticed was someone whose family we were relatively close with over the years. I had a flashback to visiting their home more than once, specifically for birthdays. That house, the one with the ultra modern design and the built in pool that was actually inside the center of the house. The one where my son spent more time in the TV room, dancing in front of the screen and banging on the floor as was his usual sensory seeking activity. As in every situation like that I, as always, the dutiful protective dad, made sure he had enough space to engage his needs, and made sure that the one other dad who couldn’t help but stare at him understood what he was actually watching. I spent so many times assuming that position at birthday parties or other random social gatherings with friends from his school, and everyone easily recognized me, but today I felt like some kind of odd third wheel.

     We snaked around the rows of descending seats in the auditorium, and made our way to the row where my ex wife had saved about 6 or 7 seats for our respective group. The group itself consisted of me and my girlfriend, my ex and her boyfriend, my son’s long time nanny who were lovingly just referred to as his auntie, and one of the one on one aides from the school who had also known us for years, worked with my son in school and also served as a part time babysitter for us. My ex, a very bubbly and happy person most of the time, excitedly reached over to introduce herself to my girlfriend. Her boyfriend, probably on prompting from her, got up and extended his hand to me. “Great to meet you.” I reached over with my extended hand, remembering this day was about my son and not the man that I felt in my heart had taken my place. “You too” was what I could muster, and I settled into my chair. The conversation for the 15 to 20 minutes before the ceremony started was uncomfortable at best, as I wasn’t comfortable being around my ex with her new guy, nor with his nanny or the babysitter as I had not had as much contact with them since my ex and I divorced. My girlfriend, addressing the elephant in the room, made a comment about me maybe being a little more social. I said it was fine, this is where I was at, I was there for my son, and I would respect everyone’s role so that we could get through it. And then when it couldn ‘t have come any sooner, the graduates and school staff made their way on stage.

     The middle school my son attended was the main one in our rather large suburb, and several elementary schools fed into it, so the stage was filled to both ends with chairs for the graduates, while the school and district staff all sat to one side. Towards the end of the student group coming out there was my son, with his self contained special ed teacher along with his service dog, and they took a seat on the edge of the stage, near to the door in case they had to get up. The ceremony was scheduled to be roughly almost 90 minutes, presumably typical for such an event, however something which makes every special needs parent cringe. Will my son be able to even sit through this thing, I began to wonder even before we walked in the building. Thank goodness he has the service dog now, he can grab a hold of him and give it a good squeeze if he’s having trouble. And so grateful for his teacher to be with him, someone who knows him well enough over these last few years and trained with the dog to redirect him as needed. The ceremony began with remarks from the district superintendent, who expectedly acknowledged this particular class of students as being historic, in terms of having gone through and successfully navigated school through the Covid pandemic. The principal and some of the other  students shared poems and reflections, and some awards for students who had done particular acts of service. My son was surviving pretty well through all of it, thankfully with a couple breaks off the stage with his teacher and the dog.

     Then, the moment of truth, the moment that we had all waited for, and the one that probably caused me more anxiety than anything else that evening. It was time for the graduates to walk and receive their diplomas, and my son would be doing it as well, with his teacher and service dog with him. This is an absolute moment of pride for any parent, especially special needs parents, for here after 8 years of blood, sweat, pain and tears, filled with IEP meetings, reports from teachers and therapists, and a million adjustments in the classroom, my child gets to be like every other students on that stage. Draped in a shiny blue gown and donning a big blue cap with a golden tassel dangling from it. He gets to walk for his diploma like every other kid on that stage. But then I have to stop and worry, what is it going to look like, him walking on that stage with his teacher helping him and a service dog next to him, and how are people going to react?

     So much fear, so much anxiety and worry, about this night, about encountering people I wasn’t sure I wanted to see, being with my ex and her boyfriend, and most of all thinking that my son on his graduation day might get some weird hurtful comments from the crowd. My mind immediately went back to one more memory. This one, is one of my most prized and happiest memories of time with my son. It was Halloween several years earlier, when he was still in the early elementary school years. I was going through a job transition and we were dealing with some illness with my ex’s mom, so there was a little turmoil in our family space. Because I was off from work it meant that I could attend the Halloween party at his school, specifically the “parade” that the students did wearing their costumes all around the school. The parents lined the gym as the students circled the space before continuing on their way. My son, dressed as one of his favorite foods, a slice of pizza, spotted me on the side of the gym and made his way up to me accompanied by his aide. He walked right up to me and smiled and grabbed my hand, almost motioning me to come with him, or assuming we were leaving together. The smile and look he gave me was absolutely priceless, he was so happy his dad was there to see him, and I was so grateful for that small moment with him. I snapped a picture of him with my phone, and his aide motioned him to continue on his way. I left his school that day reminding myself, I showed up for him, daddy was there, and I was so proud of him.

     I reminded myself of that as the names began to be called, that above all else, this was my son’s night, and nothing would stop me from being there, and beam with pride for what my son was about to do. As the graduates began to file across the stage having received their diplomas, there was a reminder from the staff to save their applause until the end so that all the names could be heard. It was my son’s turn, they stepped up to the right side of the stage, and the staff member announced “Christopher Felageller along with Damon.” I took a breath right as she finished saying their names, and then to my shock and awe, the entire auditorium got up and applauded tham. Everyone, every parent, sibling, family member and friend in that auditorium got up and cheered my son. If I wondered if he was going to be accepted by the crowd because of his challenges, because he needed his teacher and service dog on the stage with him, my questions, and more importantly, my prayers were answered. He accomplished what every parent dreams about, and he was treated like every other kid, and even better, he was recognized for who he was, and loved for it. I exhaled my held breath and felt my racing heart slow down just long enough to comment about how amazed I was. Our mixed group of his parents and friends proceeded to meet him and his teacher in the hallway next to the stage.

     I immediately went up and con graduated and hugged my son, who by this point was rather annoyed that it had taken so long and was basically ready to run out of the building and get some dinner. I thanked my son’s teacher for being such a good trooper and being his assist that night. I said good bye and congratulations to my ex, and acknowledged everyone else before grabbing my son’s hand and hurriedly moving him and my girlfriend to the door of the building and back out into the parking lot and on our way. My son had received his diploma, and I had shown up for it, and for him. It was graduation day. I couldn’t be prouder.