Deluge-sion

I find myself watching the clock, especially in the mid afternoon. 2pm, need to wind down. 2:30, need to get ready to go. Eek, almost 3. I need to...nothing. There is no school bus coming at 3:30. Not to our home. Not anymore. He is not on the school bus on his way home. He is not in respite waiting to come home Friday night. He is not out with a mentor. He is gone. What? How? I just do not understand. Surely a bus will pull up. Surely someone will call. Surely the door will open. And I will see his smile, hear his smart mouth, be in his presence...any...minute...now. But no. I guess this is why people visit cemeteries, visit graves. To concretize this most absurd of concepts. That someone can simply cease to be reachable, touchable, holdable, audible, huggable anymore.

But that that someone should be a child? My child? MY CHILD!? For whom I waited, sought, looked, fought for and finally embraced after 11 years. And after only six or seven months, now he is gone?

So sometimes it feels as if he is just away. But when that sort of temporary forgetting, temporary what-if-maybe-could-be-dreamland fades, then suddenly I remember, and then the tears, screams, wails begin, raining down, and I can only hope to be washed away in the torrent.

Maybe his bus is just really, really late.

another blog in memory of my sweet boy

http://promisetributes.blogspot.com/2009/06/in-loving-memory-of-sekai-ayinde.html

Remember him

At least for now, this blog will serve as the repository of memories of my dear, sweet boy who left this earth on June 10, 2009, at the age of 15, after stating: "I am tired. I want to go to heaven." Perhaps it will also serve as a place to start collecting stories of other children bruised and broken in the foster care system, or heartbroken by their disability. Perhaps it will be a place to start (or continue) stirring hearts to action, to remember Sekai, and insist that this never, ever happen again.