On November 21, 2016, what was left of my world as I knew it, crumbled. Destruction. Rubble. Ashes. I look back now and I should have seen it coming….but I didn’t. Not at all.
2 1/2 years ago…at the beginning of a season of deep, deep pain, God set a little light in my life, in my home. He saved me in ways that words don’t encompass. And this past November, four days before Thanksgiving, he was taken away from me. Abruptly. ..with no time to adjust or process. He was taken to strangers and left to assimilate on his own…with nothing and no one familiar. We did what we could, not knowing who these strangers were, or if they were good. Four days ago, a judge ruled against me. She decided that everything I had done and been to that sweet light was nothing in the eyes of the law. She decided I was just a grandma. But I know differently. I saved him. And he saved me. And someday he will know that I fought for him.
So where do I go from here…when yet again, everything I pictured for my future was blown to bits in a matter of seconds?
First, I grieve. I am beginning the process of walking out the excruciating pain of what has been done to him. To me. To his Auntie Bug. To his Opa. To his sweet Jill. To our whole family.
Second, I build relationship with these strangers….because they are truly, truly good. I long for them to be family, no longer strangers. They are not who I believed them to be. They love our little man. And it is good for him to be part of their family now.
And finally, I learn to be a regular grandma. My heart doesn’t want to be regular, normal, typical. My heart wants my boy like he’s always been. With me. In my home. In his bed every night. But I see now, that he will not have to grow up wondering why all his friends’ parents are so much younger. He will not have to wonder why he doesn’t have a dad. He will have a regular grandma and grandpa, his Oma and Opa.
I will not live in bitterness. I refuse to be a victim. I will choose forgiveness. I just need some time to find my way.
I know in my heart that Asher will never have just a regular place inside of me. He will not ever be just a grandson. He was the boy I was scared to raise but who became like a son. I appreciated every cry, every tantrum, every sleepless night with him in a way I never understood with my first four. I was terrified to try again….but I said yes….and I don’t regret a single day. And I never will.
Oma loves you sweet boy…..and now I will teach you how to Rise.