Our intent in keeping a blog was to document our experiences in being parents.  It started with foster care training and then placement of a frail nine month old boy who we cared for and loved and after three and half years said goodbye to.  That part of our story seemed to have a beginning, middle and end.  The reality though is his story has not ended.  We continue to experience his departure over and over, sometimes more than once a day.  It has been harder than I even imagined.

When it began to look more and more likely that we would lose him, I feared the emotional upheaval that I would experience.  It isn’t just that it’s painful, I’ve begun to despise the tears.  There is a rawness that you aren’t prepared for.  It takes so little to pierce the thin skin that you mistakenly thought was healing.  Instead you find it opens and begins to ooze all over anyone who happens to be near you at that inopportune moment.  It’s the randomness—the memory out of nowhere, the inquiry from the neighbor—the toy you found under the sofa—that’s what gets you every time. 

I have no intention of lying down and drowning in this stuff.  Rather than run from the grief, I have determined that I will document it.  For one it helps me understand just what I am going through.  I also want to be able to look back and remember what this moment was like for me and my family.  I want Lucas to know him and his loss to our family even if he can’t remember him.  And some day perhaps, if our foster son remembers us, he may seek us out.  I want him to know how much we loved him, how much we miss him and that we did not abandon him.  I want all of this somewhere out there because it needs to be.

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