Good-Bye IS Forever...

Recently I was able to catch a glimpse in to the Little Man's head, and see how he is processing his life events of the past year - it broke my heart. After a visit at school from his Aunt, and two cousins, the Little Man broke down sobbing when it was time for them to leave. His teacher tried her best to comfort him but all to no avail. His teachers have seen his seperation anxiety from me, but never had they expected it, to this severity, from others in his life. His teacher tried holding him, tried rocking him, tried soothing his aching heart, but there was no amount of comforting that could heal the pain he was feeling that day. It became abundantly clear, after she told him "It's going to be okay, you got to say good-bye and you'll see them again real soon." and he replied to her "No I won't, you never see people after you say good-bye."

I found out about this exchange a week or so ago and it crushed me. At 5 years old, he is yet able to verbally express how the past year has hurt him. We have slowly began working through emotions, most of which are expressed through physical agression (at the expense of myself and his poor cousin), and now it looks like maybe, just maybe, we might be able to remove a brick or two from his wall and begin to help him heal.

Yesterday was a difficult day for him, I thought it might be and tried to prepare myself, as well as him, but I really had no idea how it would all play out. Yesterday was his last day of preschool, not a huge deal for most, but devastating for him. He started at this school in September, a mere month after his family was torn apart, we were living with family, I had no direction for our lives. This school, filled with specialists, small ratios, and the most caring staff you could ever hope for, became our life line. Since the beginning of school we have moved, we have got a new car, I have got a new job (x2), he has started daycare - the one constant in his life has been his preschool. They have been a support to both of us, a soft place to land, a warm friendly heart when we need to be sad or angry, a wealth of knowledge to help us begin life in a new community where we know no one or anything.

After picking the Little Man up from daycare he was so excited; his backpack was filled to the rim with goodies from his school, notes from his teachers, and a DVD of the school year. He begged me to watch it, so we did. We sat next to eachother on the couch while pizza cooked in the oven and we started the movie. At first we laughed, he named all the kids from his class, told me what they were doing in each picture "This was O's birthday party." "This is when we rode the boat in class." "That's circle time."; then he got quiet, and the tears began to swell in my eyes. In a loving, motherly gesture, I lay my hand on his back. The Little Man let out a forced chuckle, then burried his head in my lap, he sobbed, he shook, he couldn't catch his breath, he cried and cried and cried.

I held him there, not wanting to let go, wanting to take away the pain of this sweet, innocent young boy. I know that all I can be is his shoulder, his rock, his soft place to land; I want to be so much more but it's just not possible. I want to make miracles happen for him, I want to rid his heart and his head of sad memories. I sit here, crying, as I write this trying to navigate this new world I find us in, with no map, no direction.

We have a rule, or a code, whatever you want to call it: we don't say "good-bye". For us, we say "See you later" - that simple change from good-bye, to see you later, has worked wonders in the past 9 months to ease his anxiety. Yesterday...he had to say "Good-Bye" and from the mouth, and heart, of one amazing 5-year-old, "...you never see people after you say good-bye." Good-Bye, is forever.