I gotcha, Tan-man. And I’m never letting go.
Thirteen years ago, on this day, you came home, never having to leave again.
For more than four months prior we entertained visits as a prospective adoptive family. First a few hours on the grounds of the group home you were in. Next was a few hours where I would race you from Los Angeles and back to Irvine for the evening, only to have to race back to L. A. to return you by bedtime: two round-trip OC to LA drives near daily for months just to give you a few hours at home. Eventually we earned day visits and then overnights and ultimately weekends — first short then long.
Your rookie adoption worker was scared to make the final call and transfer you officially to my care.
But I was becoming your mom and you weren’t going to let me go any longer. By June you were protesting being left at the group home. The once-compliant, quiet boy would throw tantrums every time I left. It was no longer about me and the child I wanted… it was about you and the mom you needed.
So on July 6th, we petitioned the court and won: the judge overrode the adoption worker and ordered you be placed immediately into my care.
On July 7th, today thirteen years ago, you came home.
I had to fight to get you.
I fought for so much of what you got.
Now I fight to hold onto you.
A few weeks into our time together we did our first family photo at the nearby lake. It was never a particularly special place but today I felt drawn to come spend time with you here, in the peacefulness.
You were my peace.
Throughout the day I suppressed the draw to the lake. Time by myself with my thoughts is rarely a good thing. I fight to find my joyful memories of you.
As the day began to draw to a close I could feel panic setting in. You were pulling me somewhere and I was ignoring you. Tears began welling up under the surface and I knew where I had to be.
I grabbed a few of your things: your favorite neon orange cape, a favorite Hot Wheel, your glasses you aways handed me to clean for you, and a “T” Disney keychain from your collection.
Sitting in front of the water, listening to the ducks quack and the couples chatting as they strolled by behind me, I began to sob. I just miss you more than I think I can bear. I miss my life with you. I miss us. You and me, mom and son
As I often do, I decided to take a photo of the moment. Just as I lined up the mementos I brought, a soft breeze came in and made the cape flutter.
My heart is still broken but I found you in the moment.
Today is our Gotcha Day.
You got me, Tanner. Forever.
