Karen's Journey

I am reprinting here what I wrote back in April of 2010, nearly four years ago. I was so full of hope and naivete. The truth is that I have been unable to help T move forward in any way. I wanted a happy ending. I wanted him to learn to love me as his mom. I don't think either is possible at this point. He has most definitely not accepted us as his family. There has been nothing awe-inspiring about this journey. It has just been hard and bleak. As he gets older, the problems are becoming more difficult and scary. I don't blame T at all. My empathy for him runs deep, deep, deep. I feel tremendous sadness for that scared little boy who was ripped from his mother's arms as she screamed, desperately trying to hang onto him, and then sent away without a word of explanation to live with strange people in a strange land. That he has not been able to cope is not his fault. And I am tired of people who seem to insinuate that his inability to be resilient and come out of h

When a loved one passes, there is so little that words can do to "make it better." Mostly it's not the words, but just knowing that others grieve with you that bring comfort. I personally find little solace in funeral services that focus on the fact that the deceased "is in a better place" or "is with Jesus now." I just don't know that we can know that. I always find myself thinking, "Well, maybe he/she is…." But these words were posted on the Facebook page of a friend who recently lost her husband and father to their two young children. I can't think of a better way to honor and remember someone whose passing has left an unfill-able hole in one's life. "Now that I'm gone,  remember me with a smile and laughter.  And if you need to cry,  cry with your brother or sister  Who walks in grief beside you.  And when you need me,  put your arms around anyone  and give to them what you need to give to me.  There are so