Will He Remember The Bacon?

“Bacon,” bellowed from his teenage voice as I started cooking for the king. A melancholy feeling washed over my balding, slightly graying head. As it passed from head to toe, I wondered, will he remember the bacon?

My son, now 15, requires 24/7 support for health and safety. He communicates some of his needs, and if it’s something he loves, he’ll tell you every second. But still, I wonder if he knows how deeply we love him. And will he remember moments like us cooking bacon together?

Our conversation bounced from Christmas to the presents he wanted from eBay. I was proud we were talking about Christmas like any dad and son, but that same melancholy feeling lingered. Does this moment matter to him the way it does to me? I should clarify that the conversation was him saying Joe’s Notebook Christmas, and, per the usual, I talked too much.

For a brief second, we were just two guys talking about nature’s meat candy. Even though I was doing all the talking, it felt good. I spoke about the sizzle and the smell, narrating the cinematic bacon event. He uses one or two words or short scripts to communicate, so our conversations look different. Maybe that’s why this one felt so important. As the remaining hairs on my head continue to turn gray and fall out, we want him to have a long and happy life filled with bacon, notebooks, and family.

Will he remember our talks about bacon, Christmas, or the way I speed up hills like a roller coaster because it makes him laugh? I tell him I love his spirit, laughter, and compassion, qualities he shows a world that too often underestimates such an exceptional person.

I want him to know that his contribution to our family is needed. He loves us despite our cracks and failings. He takes us as we were meant to be: loving, compassionate, and strong.

And still, the question remains:
Will he remember the bacon…or is he thinking, Dad, why do you keep talking so much about freaking bacon?