Sometimes, even with a very full house, I know I will never be complete.I wonder where you are, what you are doing, and if you are safe.
You called me mom, even though I didn’t want you too. You weren’t allowed to and telling a 3 year old that was hard and complicated and that conversation was painful. Jp called me that but you weren’t allowed. You smiled when To stop me from being sad. You made your foster family laugh and your foster brother loved you so much. We miss you.
Tonight I told your foster sister, who came after you and had never met you, about the girl that was mine but never really was. You are the one that has continually taught me even though you were gone. Zoey will have a better mom because of you. You have played a part in making me, me!
I don’t even remember your last name anymore. One day I hope you come across my blog and discover the blog entries that were written to you. I realize that is likely impossible. But still this blog is something. Somehow, it still connects me to you. Again, it’s complicated.
Every time I think of becoming a foster mom again I think of you and wonder if I ever would make it through another goodbye like that.
For now, I am so glad I could have been there for you for that short moment that I was and for that reason alone maybe the last sentence is void. There are more kids out there like you and that have your story but there is so few adult that seem like me. An open house again? Would my heart even survive?
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