A Million Tiny Pieces

“Today is my last day.”

Ok, I said.

And he kept telling me the long list of things that happened.  And where they were going.

And all I could say was “ok.”

I just kept saying ok over and over and over again.  Because if I said anything more than that, I would break down sobbing.

Because I needed to remain strong, because as he was telling me why he was leaving, he was shaking and trying not to cry himself.









Meanwhile, on the inside, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

These are my kids.  My kids that aren’t biologically mine.  My kids that don’t live with me.  But they are my kids, because I work with them every single day.  And I care about them.  My kids because they may not live in my house, but they certainly live in my heart.

My kids who are leaving me, because home is no longer a safe place for them to be.

I am heartbroken.

They are heartbroken.  Because even though home isn’t a great place to be, they’re being sent off into a new, and scary place to be.  One where their best friends won’t be every day.  One where the teachers that have taken them under their wings, and loved on, protected and guided through life won’t be.

God is in control.  I know that.

But when I could, I cried in the staff restroom.  And then pulled myself together, or at least tried to.  So my grief over the situation wouldn’t make things even worse.

It’s a new day.

It’s a tough day.

But it is a day we will get through.

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