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But whenever fear became overwhelming, he looked at Leo and remembered that his son was not a diagnosis.
He was simply Leo.
A cheerful little boy who loved ceiling fans, pancakes, and dogs.
For reasons nobody understood, Leo called every dog “Gary.”
A golden retriever was Gary.
A Chihuahua was Gary.
Even a picture of a wolf in a book was apparently “very big Gary.”
Those little moments helped Arthur see that life was not supposed to be measured only by difficulties.
Some things were harder for Leo.
He needed extra support with communication and certain developmental milestones.
But he also brought enormous joy into Arthur’s life.
When money became tight, Arthur sold an old truck he had spent years restoring.
It had sentimental value because his father had helped him rebuild it.
Selling it hurt.
But therapy and household expenses came first.
Arthur never regretted choosing his son.
During those years, a neighbor named Mrs. Johnson became part of their lives.
She was a retired elementary-school secretary who lived across the hall and had a natural ability to make people feel less alone.
At first, she helped occasionally.
Then she began watching Leo while Arthur worked overtime.
She attended school meetings when Arthur couldn’t get away.
She became a trusted part of Leo’s childhood.
Eventually, Leo stopped calling her Mrs. Johnson.
He called her Grandma Jo.
She never corrected him.
One night, after Arthur had been struggling with fear about the future, Grandma Jo gave him advice he would never forget.
“Children don’t need perfect parents,” she told him. “They need people who stay.”
Arthur believed those words completely.
And because of them, Goldi’s absence became even harder to understand.
As Leo grew older, he began asking questions.
Where was his mother?