A Heartbreaking Good-Bye

Last week we said good-bye to our dear foster son. The judge approved for him to move to the same foster home as his sister. I received a call from a caseworker at 11:30 am that this was the decision, and a caseworker came an hour later and picked him up.

I had been mentally preparing myself for this as we knew there was a very real possibility that he would leave. I had already packed most of his toys. I had one hour to pack his remaining items and say good-bye.  I was a complete disaster. I didn't have an emotional attachment to most of his clothing, but my mom had made matching pajamas for the kids for Christmas - in a Christmas plaid. It was a long-sleeve button up shirt that we always called his "old man pajamas" because he reminded us of a little old man toddling around in a night shirt. When I got to that pair of pajamas to put away forever I cried and cried and cried.

Before I knew it the caseworker had arrived at our home. She began taking his things to her car. She walked out the door and our foster son said, "Bye-bye!" I lost it again. The poor dear didn't understand that it would be him leaving this time.

She took him from my arms. I kissed his chubby cheeks for the last time. She took him away.  I watched from the window, sobbing silently and she carried my little boy away. I'll never forget him sitting in the back seat, looking around, probably wondering where he was going and why. They drove away and were gone from our lives.

This good-bye was much more difficult for me than I expected. I closed his bedroom door because it was too painful for me to see his crib and know that he will never sleep in it again.

The day passed, slowly and painfully. But the next morning came, and there was joy. Despite the sadness, there was joy. Each day has gotten easier. Much as we loved him, he also carried with him a huge burden, one that we had gladly shouldered, but a burden nonetheless.

Yesterday marked one week since he departure. I finally gathered up the sheets and blankets from his crib to wash. As a put one of the blankets into the machine I caught a whiff of his smell. I held the blanket to my face and smelled him for the last time. I considered not washing the blanket, but thought it would help me move on if I didn't have that reminder of him.

Today Maggie found the ball we got him for his birthday under the couch. She said she misses him. We all do. We are moving on, but we still miss him. I am thankful that he is with a Christian family and will continue to pray for him and his sister.