One of my cousins had an unfortunate upbringing. His so called birth mother took care of him, if you can call it that, until she basically dumped him on her grandmother. She then took off for a long time doing things that even I wouldn't want to mention on this blog. His great grandmother raised him until his birth mother came back pregnant with her second child. Shortly after his birth, their great grandmother died. Then the years of true torment began for my oldest son. I hope by now you realize I am the adoptive mother. The younger child was given anything he wanted, including anything that belonged to his older brother. The older child, my son, was beaten, locked up in closets, starved and made to be the house keeper. Basically, Cinderfella without Jerry Lewis or a Fairy God Mother.
One day the boys' birth mother dumped them both on the street in front of the house that they grew up in, which was foreclosed on and boarded up. It was after a friend of the family's death. She dropped them off with no roof over their head, no food to eat and didn't even tell them she would be back. She didn't come back for days. My grandmother and I called child protective service and had them come and get the boys. It was the only way for us to get them completely away from their birth mom and give them a better chance for their future.
Since my grandmother was the closest living relative, she retained custody and I helped her raise them until she died. When my grandmother passed, other family members stepped in and took the boys with them. They wouldn't even let me see the will. Maybe six months later, one of them called and asked if I would take the oldest boy. If not, she was going to send him back to the foster care system. That is when I took over completely and did my best to give him a better life.
My payment for many years was lying, theft, smoking (cigarettes and pot), ditching school and disrespecting my property as well as my other children. Through it all, I never stopped loving him. In fact, I am sure some will say I went above and beyond for him, almost to the point of choosing him over my other children. I tried to save him, because I understood what he came from. I was in a place as bad as he had been when I was growing up. I know what it feels like to hate the world and believe that no one loves you. I know what it is to hear how you can't do anything right. I know what it feels like to have other children chosen before you. No matter what you do to be loved, it seems like all you can do is wrong.
Sadly, I have failed at my task. He is now 25 years old and has done me wrong for the last time. I wrote him out of my life even though it killed me. I know I will not ever be allowed to see my grandson again without legal intervention. Legal intervention I can ill afford to purchase. For all my kindness, my faith and my patience, I have been paid back with loss of money, a destroyed computer and my own son trying to demolish my reputation. He has even went so far as to tell people he had my job. Sadly, he hasn't worked in a couple of years and now lives on the street.
Grief has more than one face.