By Trotter Cobb
I’ve come to think of my son as my GPS.
Whenever I veer off-course onto paths of cynicism, fatigue and despair, it’s his voice, spirit and way with people that get me back on track.
It has been easy to become jaded this past year and distracted from the essence of life.
Politics has torn friends and family apart; a plague has put us under house arrest; travel, movies and restaurants became off limits. It got dark too early at the end of each day; not only outside but inside of me as well.
For me, my son has been my sun.
He continues to shine brightly, this 24-year-old young man with special needs, wherever we go. When we do venture out, safe-distancing and wearing masks, he lights up other people. He has a magic about him — others have told me this. He softens hearts and brings smiles to faces wherever he goes.
Yet he also has the sweetness and innocence of a young child. He lives his life wide-eyed with a never-ending wonderment and curiosity. Though at times this requires a lot of patience from my wife Anne and me, these traits of his never cease to lift and soothe our hearts.
His interactions with others get me back on course. They steady my hands on life’s steering wheel and motivate me
to keep going. Even when the terrain is unfamiliar, his sweet and innocent personality are constants, as people react warmly to him wherever we go.
I believe that we all are God’s children and that the Almighty endows us with gifts. For my son, known as “Trot,” it’s the gift of connecting with people and making them smile. I have seen it over and over as the years have gone by.
Moreover, he cares and worries about others deeply, whether he sees an ambulance whizzing by, someone who appears lonely walking down the street, or somehow senses that someone he knows is having a bad day. He wants everyone "to be happy" -- and says it over and over.
Anne, a woman of deep religious faith, has instilled the same faith in Trot. He, like his Mom, is a believing Catholic, unswerving in his faith in God and Jesus. He loves to pray for people; sick people, lonely people, homeless people. His heart aches if he sees someone struggling, and he often asks me to join him in praying for the person.
Which I do — because he has asked me to.
I believe that people respond to Trot because he responds to them.
At restaurants, especially those where we go often, they know him. No matter how busy they are, everyone -- from the waitresses to the owners -- stops and opens their hearts to my son. "Hey, Trot, how ya' doing?" they smile, already knowing his favorite order.
Then Trot, because he's always been the kind of kid who feels at home anywhere, often starts wandering from table to table, saying hi to other customers, most of whom he doesn't know.
Oftentimes, it makes me anxious. I can see these are folks involved in business discussions or social engagements or just out enjoying themselves with their families. I worry that my son -- who you can easily tell is a special needs person -- is interrupting them, even disturbing them.
Yet, this never seems to be the case. No matter how serious or involved in conversation these other folks may be, when Trot approaches and begins engaging them, simply telling them things such as "have a nice day," they smile and stop what they are doing.
The problem is not Trot. It is me. And that's the way it's always been. Even going back to his younger days. I'd let him roam the grocery store while I was shopping, knowing that he was looking for treats. Yet, I'd be worried.
What if he annoyed people? What if he got in their way? But that also never seemed to happen. He'd always come back with a treat or two, having made at least one new friend and endearing himself to the cashiers and other grocery workers.
It truly is an amazing thing to watch.
I don't believe that people respond so warmly to him because they feel sorry for him. He's become a strong, strapping guy, and though obviously challenged, he carries himself in a way that inspires warmth and puts people at ease. He always has a smile on his face and can't wait to see the next person; he is kindness personified. These are his magical ingredients.
My son, in fact, has made me "famous" -- I've come to be known throughout town as "Trot's dad." That's how I am seen on the outside; perceived as dutiful, loving and protective of my son.
What people don't see is that on the inside, Trot's zest for life, willingness to reach out to others, appreciation of every moment, and kindness are my GPS. Striving to be like him is what guides me and powers me along life's journey.
My sun is my son.