Coming Home

He is coming home, and I don’t know what to think.

Seven months ago, when Dylan finally succeeded in ending his life -I booked a trip out of the country.  I left a month later -and in doing so, I packed Josh up and left him with friends.  Originally it was only going to be for the few months I was gone, but when I got back -I couldn’t pick him up.  It is hard to explain, but there was a force that just would not allow me to pick him up and bring him home.  I couldn’t even see him.  I closed the door to the bedroom and walled off those areas in my mind.  As terrible as it sounds -I just couldn’t do it.

Over the past few months I have debated heavily with myself, friends, family and others as well.  I have questioned every avenue.  I gave myself fully over to the idea of never bringing him home again.  My thought process was simple: I had already failed enough.  Most seemed to back this theory -in their own ways.  Not so much that I had failed, but that I wasn’t cut out to be what Josh needed.  Some ignored the question.  Others threw their opinion at me.

There was only one person who told me again and again, over and over -that I should take him back, no questions asked.  But this only made the choice more challenging, because I wanted the vote to be universal. Unanimous.  I wanted there to be no doubt that the choice I made was the right choice -and yet it wasn’t.  I couldn’t persuade either side to move to the other side.  I couldn’t unite the vote, and so it was split…and so was I.

I don’t want to fail him.  I didn’t want to fail Dylan either.  I didn’t want to fail any of the kids.  My purpose in everything I did was to better them, not fail them.  But as the weeks and days ticked on, my mind only continued to scream how badly I had failed.

…and then in a random twist of fate, someone mentioned something to me that would change my thinking.  They referred to Josh as a dog.  They said that they would be more devastated to give up their dog than I should be about giving up Josh.  Others would go on to call him a burden.  A responsibility to large for myself.  A hindrance.  They would say that I should leave him and explore my life deeper and further.  “Let go and live.”

The responses cut deeper than any of the two sides had cut before -and as those cuts healed, I began to realize that this boy?  Was not a burden.  He is not a dog.  He is not something that should be tossed around.  Yet that is exactly what is happening.  While the family he is staying with is nothing less than perfect and ideal for him -they don’t want to keep him forever.  If I were to decide not to keep him -he would go into foster care.

He deserves more than that.

I don’t know if what I am doing is right -and I don’t know that I will ever have that security or confirmation.  I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, I don’t know if this is me -failing all over again.  All I know is that right now -this is the decision that feels the least wrong.

…wish us luck.

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