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Friday, February 24th, 2012


They left last Wednesday about 3:00. It was so rushed. We spent the morning with them then gave them lunch and put them to bed for a nap. We'd planned on getting them up at 2:30 so we could spend a little time before the worker came to take them. She got here 30 minutes early so we just had to rush around moving carseats and getting them dressed. We took them out to the car. They thought they were going to go play outside. They were so excited, asking for shoes and jackets. We put them in the car and gave them their nighttime bears. I couldn't get the stupid carseat buckled. Then they were gone. I forgot to look at them one last time. That's what I hate the most.

The whole grieving process has interested me in some weird way. The first week both S and I were seriously numb. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me. There was sadness, but it wasn't overwhelming. Occasionally I even felt a little relief to be exiting the roller coaster.

It hit on Wednesday of this week, though. Again, for both of us. It stormed that night. The weatherman said the worst of it was right in the area of town where they live. They were all I could think about. Since then, it's been rough. I just miss them so much. I want to know what they're doing, eating, saying, crying about, laughing about, learning, seeing. I wonder if they ask for me, for S. I wonder how they feel, how they are adjusting. I want to call my mom and tell her some silly little story about something they did. I want to see their faces light up when S opens the door.

I just hope they are ok. I hope they are going to make it and things will work out for them. We will miss them every day, every minute of our lives. The longing I have to see them seems to have a physicality to it. I want to reach out and hold the memories I have of them. I want to touch them, hear them, smell them.

I live in this odd place. There's part of me that could bury everything down. This part could say, "Oh they were foster kids, you knew they were going to leave." That part could just continue on and act like our job with them is done. There's another part that would love nothing more than to sit in the parking lot down the street from their home just to watch them go by, could sleep in their room just to smell their scent, could quickly fall into a place where light is hard to find.

But I've made the choice to be in the middle. We need to mourn, we need to grieve. They were our world for 16 months. We were their parents and now we're not. They were our center and now they're not. It is a heartbreaking thing. But it is not the end of the world. The world will go on and we will find much more joy. We did our job and we did it well. We gave them everything we had.

And we have a million memories. Oh the memories. Oh the pictures, the videos.

One day maybe the girls. I feel we'll see them again. Dad is open to it, and Dad is open to anything we will give. And we'll give, in order to see them.

I cannot wait. I cannot wait. I cannot wait. To see them. To make sure they are ok.

My heart is breaking right along with yours, for you, S and the girls.
pegi   Friday, February 24, 2012
I've dreaded the day coming for you. I worry about them and pray they will be safe. I hope you find peace and when he time is right, another little soul will benefit from your love.
dannie   Friday, February 24, 2012
Big Sighhhhhhh...
I do hope you see them again soon and that they are doing great! I know you are very strong but please allow yourself to be shattered when you need to be. I really can't grasp having to let two babies go. I just doesn't compute.
Spike   Friday, February 24, 2012
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