A Different Kind of Love

This is the first time I have been alone since Finn left.  The bonus daughter is at dinner with her biological mother (biomom), The Brit is still at work, and my sisters have just departed with my nieces and nephews.  It's just me.

I am supposed to be at the grocery store.  I haven't been in awhile.  The bonus kid has Skittles for dinner last night.  And for breakfast this morning. The Brit commented that he noticed that his sandwich was made from two heels turned around.  "Like I wouldn't notice," he says.  He didn't notice the chunks that were missing from the fuzzy green stuff I picked off.  "Why does it taste like penicillin?"

"Must be that light Mayo, babe."

When my niece Emma was born, we had a special bond.  I was there to cut her cord (my brother-in-law was not excited about that part) and ever since then, I have loved her more than I have ever loved a person.  It scared me sometimes.  Then came my nephew, Mark.  Then came Belle and then my bonus daughter (I got her when she was 6), and most recently Ollie.  I love them all differently.  And differently than I love my husband, my sisters, or my parents, or Dani.

And then came Finn.

This is day 3 without him. If I had posted this at 9 this morning it would have been day 1 without tears.  But it is 5:22.  So the count starts over.

The normal things we do are never very normal, but having a missing link in our entourage is heartbreaking.  Today we went to the zoo and then to El Nopal. Two places he has been and would have been today. When we got home, and I went to throw stuff in Lily's room, I expected Finn to come bursting out of his bedroom.

He did not.

We still text and he sends pictures, but it is not the same.

I never believed my mom when she told me she loved each kid differently, but it's true.  One of those horrible things you don't understand until you have kids of your own.  Bella (she's 4) said today she didn't want to have children.  Her mom told her that was ok, Kiki didn't have children.  "But you do have kids," my bonus daughter says.

I do.

And now I understand.  You love them all differently.  Not more.  Not less.  I don't always get it back (Belle is weird, Lily is awkward and Finn is a teenager), but I always tell them, every chance I get.

I love you.

My Dearest Finn,

If someone would have told me how hard this would be, the leaving part, the saying goodbye, if the ghost of host students future could have taken me to this moment, I am not sure I could have done it.  This may be the hardest thing I have ever done in my whole 30 years (saying goodbye to you has passed up the 30 day detox and that 16 miles hike in the mountains).

But maybe I would.  Maybe the wonderful memories we have made together as a family, both big and small, would overshadow the heartbreak of having to give you back.  Babsi, thank you for letting us borrow him; he has changed our lives forever.

Thank you, Finn, for trying to teach me responsibility, for patting my shoulder when I cry, and for pretending you aren't scared when I drive the car in reverse. On the highway. Thank you for making me laugh, for forgiving me when I screwed up, and for promising never to forget us. Thank you for allowing this family to love you, to take care of you, and to learn from you.

I will miss you sitting at the counter. I will miss you sleeping in the car on road trips.  I will miss you playing tag in the house with Lily and always giving the kids whatever they want.  I will miss my alarm clock, my voice of reason, My storm cloud in the morning, my sunshine each day, my moon and stars at night.

We will see you and your family next summer.  We will skype.  We will keep in touch.  You have changed our lives, Finn Finneous Korn, and we will forever be grateful.  We love you.

-The Hutchinsons, Graces, Delaneys, and Weyers