As I was driving home after dropping Daughter off yesterday evening, a praise song was running through my mind as I struggled with tears. I'm glad the move day has arrived, I'm glad there are possibilities for Daughter. We've had many conversations as I've sought to help Daughter with her stress. I've tried to normalize her experience. She mentioned that she was just moving to a new room, and it didn't feel right. I told her about the many different dorm rooms I lived in when I was a young adult. This helped her. For me, it added to the pain.
I went to college at the normal age. At 27, I had completed college, seminary, and was ordained. Daughter most likely will be moving from room to room her entire life. It's not fair. It's not the goal I had for her when she came to live with me 23 years ago. It's not the dream she has for herself. It's hard. Very hard. At what point do I kill her dreams and tell her it's very unlikely she will ever be able to live independently and adopt a special needs child (her stated goal)?
So as I drove home last night, I sang on a song of praise, grateful for the resurrection, Daughter, time with Sister and Short Niece, and the fact that Daughter will be moving today. I struggled with my grief, grief over impossible dreams and unfair limits. I had mixed emotions.
Daughter has called this morning, sobbing. "I accidentally snapped." She is saying good bye to the people she has lived with and come to care for over the last 15 months. She knows she won't see some of them again. She fears for their safety. Her fears are real, and reality based. I worry, too. Will she be able to advocate strongly enough for her self to assure her safety when I'm no longer around.
Time to get dressed and go walk through a difficult day with my beloved Daughter.