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DaRk AnGel : Why Home : August 2006 : Losing Blane....

Losing Blane....

Happy Friday…..

I remember when I lived for Fridays. Now I have trouble remembering what day is which. Life seems the same, day in and day out. What I would give to be able to work again.

Blane was here yesterday. It was not a good time. Seems like his keepers are going to be placing him in another foster home. He is not excited by the prospect of another rejection, another return of damaged goods. He is scared.

I tried to shed a positive light on the whole thing, but I think I was unconvincing. He is disposable. I mean you get the kid and if you don't like him you throw him away again. More damage, more hurt and hurt is what generates anger.

And yes, he asked if he could come and live with me and the dogs. Unfortunately that is not an option. I have never tried to qualify for being a foster parent, and doubt I would be accepted if I did.

When I told him that was not an option - again he felt the sting of rejection. It hurt me to hurt him. He is so defeated by his own attitude. And all of that is manifested in anger resulting in aggression against himself or others. I see so much of who and what I was at his age in me. I so do not want him to become me.

In 1960 My mother sister and myself fled from my father. And I remember saying no one would ever hurt me again. At that time I meant physically. I would never allow anyone to beat on me, and since that time the few who have - have suffered the consequences. I am ashamed to admit one of them was my mother.

I went from being totally controlled to totally out of control when I was freed from my father's presence. I was eight and had done something wrong. My mother decided I needed a spanking.

When the police and my sister arrived my mother was locked in the bathroom, huddled in the corner crying. I was too young to realize that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and my going after her with a knife was enough to push her over the edge. NO ONE WAS EVER GOING TO HURT ME AGAIN.

After that my life was mainly in and out of boarding schools, juvenile courts, and lived on my own terms.

Blane is heading that same route. I can see the hurt and anger in his eyes. I can see that all he wants is to feel loved and not wonder where or who he will be with tomorrow. He and I share a certain type of loneliness. We live without roots and not belonging to anywhere or anyone. A ship a drift with no port of call.

When we went back yesterday I got to speak to one of the staff. They assure me that this is a good home and has dealt with a lot of problem kids. To date they have never returned one. I pray that Blane is not the first.

I was then asked if I was ready for a new friend when everything was finished with Blane. I looked at the counselor and readily admitted that Blane's and my time together was short, yet I am in a way sad that I am losing him. The fact is I received more than I gave to Blane. He will never understand that. If you have never helped a stranger you cannot possibly ever know the rewards.

I told the counselor, maybe in a few weeks. He smiled wryly and said that it was the usual response.

I said good by to him, and do not know if I will or will not ever see Blane again.

Talk about mixed emotions.

God I hope, and I do pray that it works out for him. And that he learns that he is a good and wanted kid. He does not deserve any less.

No one does.