First, thank you everyone for you kind words. No, you can’t say anything to make me feel better, but just that you want to say them means everything. Like so many of the things many of us are way too familiar with, there just isn’t a bright side here. There is a strange comfort in hearing from people who get that.
I cannot tell you how important my adoption friends have been through all of this. Some I know personally, some who are no more than words on the screen, but all real good friends in a much closer sense than even my local friends and family. People who understand how hard it is to build trust, a life, find a place you feel truly loved, and having that go away might mean.
I feel like I’ve been thrown out alone in the world, but this time there’s not a line of bright successful young couples just dying to give me the new life I deserve. Considering how that worked out last time, it’s probably a good thing.
My family attorney pointed out something that froze me to the bone the other day. I am no longer David’s wife. I don’t belong to him and he doesn’t belong to me. In the legal sense, our relationship ended with his last breath. Somehow he’s not considered my forever family. I get to keep the name, the ring, his stuff, I’m responsible for his legal disposal, but we are not related. Just as I was made part of a family, I did not choose, by the stroke of an official’s pen, I’ve been taken from one, that I chose, by nothing more than another signature on another certificate.
David (or at least the smashed-up bone fragments that constitute his “ashes”) are on their way back to me. I’ll carry out his last wish by burying them under the same tree where our dogs and cats have found their rest early next week. He’ll be home forever. I think I’ll miss him more for being so close.