From Ashes to Art Shows

It wasn’t until my mother’s funeral that my cousins knew what had happened. I didn’t want to burden them with holding the lie. I let them think what they were going to think, rather than break their hearts around her. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t be with her during her final days until we were standing in the parking lot of a restaurant after the service. The realization brought shock, tears, and an understanding that forgave my previous indiscretion. This hit them with more loss, and more grieving. It was something I didn’t want to do but couldn’t hold...

Save, save, save, save, save…      19 times. Every few months, “press 9 to re-save”. While I did transfer the messages to a recorder for posterity, I still hold on to the voicemails left by my mother. They start out with a cheerful message of a visit she had with an old friend. The second one starts with “Happy Birthday” but then quickly goes, “I wish I had better news for you, but I just came back from the doctor. He mentioned the C-word.” I knew what she meant. The rest continues to chronicle her journey through endless doctor’s visits...

I agreed to take “Mini D” in because of the real possibility that it could become a Forever Thing. Extensive work done by the Dept of Children & Family Services (DCFS) and the Children's Court and my Magic 8 Ball all said, “Outlook Good.” We were within weeks of starting the paperwork for adoption when Life had other plans. “Better Not Tell You Now” … “Concentrate and Try Again”. Sparing you some of the dark details (for both the children’s sakes) the winds changed… the tone of the phone conversations with DCFS changed. I was just waiting for the other...

Life with “Mini D” was a different chapter. It took a while before he came to us. I had to make sure Oscar approved (after all, this was his family too) … plus bunk beds had to be bought… yadda yadda. He almost arrived on the one-year anniversary of Oscar, but that would be too much like having a birthday on Christmas. Each deserved their special day, so he arrived at one year and one week. Mini D was special. His eyes lit up the room, and his smile melted your heart. Everyone who saw him instantly fell in love....

There was another child once. It was one year into being a dad when this came out of left field… “Would you be willing to take on a three-year-old?” Now I hadn’t planned on more, and I really didn’t want to take care of any human under 10 years old, but I felt there was something more. I thought… “If I’m being called, I’m being called.” He was a young African American child, currently living with a foster mom and his biological sister. She was only capable of handling the one child, and they needed to place him soon; to...