My brother, who has Down syndrome, was hiding something in his bag. My wife was afraid he’d hurt our baby. I told her she was wrong, but I couldn’t explain it. Then, in the middle of the night, our baby’s scream changed everything.
When Mom died of a stroke, I was twenty-four and Jamie was sixteen.
Jamie has Down syndrome. Mom had been the center of his whole world.
Three days later, at the funeral, everyone kept saying the same thing.
“If you need anything, call me.”
“Anything at all.”
By four o’clock the church was almost empty.
Jamie has Down syndrome.
Jamie sat in the front pew, pulling at a tie that was too big for him.
“Where do I live now?”
I looked at him. He was staring at the floor.
“With me.”
“For how long?”
“What do you mean?”
“With me.”
