The hard part is overI thought. Our seats were around the corner. We were here to see local history in the making: Seattle, my beloved hometown, becoming an internationally recognized soccer city.

Then I turned the corner and came upon a wall of concrete stairs. I hadn’t realized how steep and narrow the climb would be. Our seats were near the top. How was my dad going to achieve it, with his cane?

We had been talking about hosting the World Cup in Seattle since before his stroke. After that, I was even more determined to bring him here.

My dad had a stroke 6 months ago.

My dad suffered a stroke last December. Fortunately, he can still talk and walk, but now he uses a cane and can’t go far. He has lost some short-term memory and his reaction time is slower.

He has been working hard to recover with brain exercises and physical therapy. Still, the stroke exacerbated his existing mobility problems, from a knee injury in high school and a physically grueling career as an electrician.

I am hopeful that it continues to progress. I’m also trying to accept that some changes may be the new normal.

However, what hasn’t changed is our shared love of sports. Going to games is a celebration of our home in the Pacific Northwest. The stadiums are integrated into the city and offer views of the skyline and the best summer weather in the United States. (I’m biased, of course.)

Luckily, my dad made it to his seat, using the handrail to propel himself with one hand and using the cane with the other. But it was a stark reminder of my inexperience with accessibility. I thought I had planned our route well. I hadn’t taken that final climb into account.

My mom needed a break from caring.

I spent hours in a digital queue during the last minute sales phase and surprisingly got four tickets on my credit card. My dream was to take my dad, my mom and my boyfriend. But my mom had vacation plans: she had been my dad’s caregiver for months and was ready for a break now that he had recovered somewhat.

Without it, taking my dad to the game would be more complicated. He had not attended a big event since his stroke. My parents live a few hours north of the city and he can’t drive unless he passes a new driving test, per doctor’s order. One of my mom’s friends volunteered to drive him part of the way. My boyfriend and I could pick it up from there.

But the stadium area would be closed to traffic and accessible parking had run out. I considered suggesting a wheelchair, but I know how much my dad values ​​walking, even though it’s harder now. I thought we would use another accessibility support to minimize your walking time.

The accessibility information I found online was confusing and seemed incomplete. So while the United States was playing Australia, I walked to Seattle Stadium from my nearby apartment. Making my way through the revelers, I headed to the location listed as an accessibility drop-off area. I discovered an ADA shuttle parked there and the operators told me it was actually departing from my neighborhood. We finally had a travel plan.

Despite the plan, the day still held surprises

Before 8 in the morning, my boyfriend and I were traveling. The bright summer day promised temperatures around 80 degrees. We picked up my dad and then stopped to buy hydrating drinks, since sometimes he forgets to drink enough water. I started shivering in the cold aisles of the supermarket, partly because of the refrigeration, but also because I was nervous to make sure my dad would be okay.

In Seattle, my boyfriend dropped us off at the shuttle pick-up point, then went to park and met us at the stadium.

The walk from the descent to the accessible entrance was long for my dad, but at least it was flat and he was able to get through it. Even when we reached the last flight of surprisingly steep stairs, he didn’t complain. I could see that going up was painful for him. I tried to offer him an arm to support me, but he decided to do it alone.

We arrived at our seats half an hour before start. Only then did I relax. Soon, the three of us were surrounded by the infectious joy of singing and chanting to the Bosnian fans as Bosnia and Herzegovina beat Qatar 3-1 in a thrilling match.

Although navigating the stadium wasn’t as easy as I expected, it allowed me to see how independent my dad still is. What my dad wants most is to enjoy our time together. It’s what I want too.