I can't help myself. A few times a day I look at his picture on my phone. It was taken only a few days before he left. I also listen to a recording I made of his laughing while I kissed his belly.
I miss him terribly.
I don't cry as much as before, but the heavy vacant feeling in my chest is still there. At times I find myself convincing myself he's coming back. Like he is on an extended visit or something.
We're back on the list for Monday. That's tomorrow. Now that it's so close, I am scared. I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. I know I can't sit around and pine for my boy. I know that it's done and over with and not going to change. I know I need to move on. I know my propensity for depression.
I know without something else to do I may end up in my car stalking out MGM home trying to get a glimpse of my boy.
That would not be good.
While out on Saturday, I ran into a GAL I used to work with. We spend quite a bit of time together on this case or that. She was an Assistant Attorney General, then found she needed to work for the children instead of representing CPS.
She was with her daughter. I remember when she was pregnant.
She recognized me right away and asked how things were. I told her about the boy. She remembered I left the State to do foster parenting. She said 'Didn't they know who they were messing with? You were always such an advocate for you kids. It's sad they didn't utilize your skills'.
Big happy smile from me. THIS is how I wanted to be remembered.
She went on to tell me she had staffings coming up for several children for adoptive homes. She wanted my e-mail, phone number, licensing agency, and worker's name. She is specifically requesting our file be presented.
There is still hope my 7 years at CPS was not wasted. That someone will put in a good word. A helping hand. Something.
I came home feeling hope.
Then I saw the little hand print in the dust of my dirty coffee table.