My Son’s Rainbow Family

Black and white and tan, it came to be

A partially completed double rainbow near Desolation Sound, BC. All photos by the author.

Our daughter was born in 1980 and seemed as perfect as any parent would hope for.

However, horrors! By her first birthday, we realized she was left-handed. Of course, that’s not the end of the world, and some would say it could even be an advantage in some areas of life. But, knowing the multitude of disadvantages in a right-handed world as a lefty, we just wanted to be sure.

Learning to feed herself, we’d put the spoon, fork or spork into her right hand, hoping she’d intuitively use it that way. Never. She’d always transfer it to the left hand, the same hand she’d been using to throw balls, toys or food onto the floor.

As hard as we tried to trick her, we concluded she was born this way and let nature take its course.

Three years later our son was born, strong and handsome and as perfect as any parent would hope for.

Robert Munch’s book “Love You Forever” came out in 1986. Sold as an illustrated children’s book, it’s just as powerful for any adult, with its story of unconditional love between parent and child. Repeated multiple times through the book are these lines: “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

I’d read this quite often at bedtime with my son in his room. Next to his bed, spanning the entire length of the room, was the giant rainbow I’d painted before our daughter was born. Across the room, a tiny night light glowed in the colorful clown lamp on the side table. As the story would end, with the child now an adult taking care of the parent, my sensitive son would cry. A good cry, of empathy and understanding.

His best friends in childhood were a mix of boys and girls. He’d often play with Mark, and the two of them, about six years old, would wear his sister’s tutus as they danced to music. The VHS tapes are gone now, but not the memories.

Surely, there is no surprise where this story is heading. By the time he told us his date for a prom was another boy, we were not the least bit surprised.

We’d long ago learned he’d been born this way, just like his sister had been born left-handed. There’s no point in trying to change nature.

I can’t imagine any LGBTQ person thinking, “I’ll choose to be different in a way that will get me harassed, teased, beat up, made fun of, ostracized and shamed, just for fun.”

My beautiful son lived through it all, to adulthood, not without pain and loss along the way. Both his mom and his sister have passed away, too young.

The day of the wedding, in the courthouse

However, he’s found love, affection and understanding. Eight years ago, he and his partner married. They celebrated with family and friends, all present and supportive.

The wedding cake. My son is the tall one.

I don’t know what a stereotypical gay couple should look like. Do all gay men dress impeccably and know how to decorate? Do all gay women drive a Subaru and have short hair? Of course not.

My son is tall, slim and very white. His husband is shorter, a little less slim, and very Hispanic. Love is thankfully blind to stereotypes, color and gender. Their rainbow was nearly fully formed, just needing a little more sunshine.

As my son and his husband built their lives together, they wished for a child. After going through all the complex state screening, they became foster parents, taking in infants who needed immediate shelter. In each case they had a hope that fostering would lead to adoption, only to be disappointed again and again.

Out for a walk, my son in law, their beautiful foster daughter, and my son.

As a welded steel artist, I wanted to make something strong and lasting about their joy. Two tin snips, two hammer heads, a railroad spike.

The completed piece, that now is on my son’s desk.

Then, finally, a one-year-old child, a beautiful, happy, black girl, came into their lives through fostering, and they were able to adopt her during Covid. It was a lengthy and challenging process, made even more challenging because of Covid restrictions. At the official court of adoption, when the judge issued the order, my son and his husband both burst into tears, thankful the journey was over.

The cake at the adoption party dinner.

Their beautiful child is now seven years old. She calls them Poppy and Daddy. I’m Pop Pop and my wife is Grammie.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”