Terrible, Tragic, Grief-Laden Loss To Living Life More Deliberately
- Sep 21, 2021
- 6 min read
Written by: Jenn Taylor, Executive Contributor
Executive Contributors at Brainz Magazine are handpicked and invited to contribute because of their knowledge and valuable insight within their area of expertise.
As far back as I can remember in my adult life, I had a recurring dream of a shy, blue-eyed little girl. In the dream I saw her and yet I was still looking for her. She would disappear down an aisle at the grocery store, and when I went to look down the aisle, she wasn’t there. I would feel disappointment, look up and see her peeking out of a completely different aisle. Waking up dreaming about this sweet, shy, blue-eyed little girl left me feeling two things. First, she was one of my children and I would find her. Second, I would know her when we met.
16 years ago, I took a job at the school most of my kids were attending. I was a teacher’s assistant for the Kindergarten class, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Early on in my position. I saw her. The blue-eyed, shy little girl from my dreams. Even though I’d had over 9 years of foster parenting, I thought I was going crazy to believe someone else’s little girl was my little girl. I pulled her chart and realized she was being raised by a single dad, and then put together he was the single dad that the single moms and my coworkers were talking about. He was the cute single dad.
She and I had a special connection from the start. At first, too shy to get off the outside step to play, eventually we were passing the ball, and then she was playing with other kids and laughing. Other kids noticed she was my “special girl”, and although I would never want other kids to feel slighted, she has been that ever since.
Her Dad and I eventually became friends and had playdates. My kids loved her and she always felt like part of our family. Months later, he and I started dating and, in the end, had a 7-year relationship. At the beginning of our relationship, I learned that my special girl’s Mom wasn’t very involved, and she had an older brother with a different dad. He began to be invited over to my house so they could spend time together, and he became part of the family. Over time, my special girl’s Mom had another little girl, and by then we were so involved in her older brother’s life, the baby was also invited.
As I was still involved in foster care, when CPS became involved, I got the call to take my special girls siblings. Saying yes was a brainless choice as they were already part of my family, and they were her family, which meant even more.
Christopher was 10 when we met and 12 when he moved in permanently. He would later have the option to move back to his biological Mom’s house, which he declined. He aged out and was always part of our family - no different to me than any other biological, adopted, or foster child that called me Mom. I loved him completely. Christopher had an outstanding sense of humor, he was always childlike in how he expressed himself, was open and honest with his feelings and everyone who spent time with him felt better for having known him.
He went from being a chubby kid to an incredible athlete. From following me begrudgingly on runs, to passing me practically running backward. He was always up for an adventure, even if that meant hanging his head out the car window while I was driving. He didn’t fit in at the traditional high school, and since I wasn’t particularly fond of his “new plan” to drop out of high school to be a professional gamer during his sophomore year, he and I researched, interviewed, and found a school that fit him better. Christopher, like most kids, didn’t like his turn on the chore wheel when he landed on “kitchen”, however, after a couple of months at the dorm-style school he attended down the street from us for his final time in high school, he came home on the weekends and apologized profusely. Apparently, life in a dorm of 600 kids and “pulling KP duty” was far worse than any chore I ever threw at him. He also thanked me for teaching him how to do the chores in the house, because at least he knew how. Christopher was sweet with his feelings and tender in how he expressed them, and always, always hilarious in his presentation.
He became an adult, was in a relationship, and had a son. Some of my favorite memories are of his lighthearted personality shining through as a Dad. He always remained connected to my other kids - who were all truly his siblings - and to me, although his relationship with my special girl was the strongest connection. I was a better human being for having the privilege of calling him my son, and I cherished that he decided early on to call me Mom.
On August 6, 2016, at 23 years old, Christopher was reported missing. At that point, he was living 7-hours away in Las Vegas and we all felt completely unprepared for what to do. Nothing about the situation seemed to add up, and we were all left acutely feeling a loss without closure. His biological Mom went on a rampage to get information out, to raise awareness, to do anything possible to figure out a way to find him from being on podcasts to launching a Facebook account where information was posted. I remained silent.
I knew if I came forward to help, to be interviewed, to post, it would become clear who I was, what my role had been, and his biological Mom would lose credibility. It would be apparent that, once people realized the situation and how he had been bounced around, he lived with me more years than with his mother and that perhaps they didn’t have a great relationship. Regardless of the situation, I would never want to intentionally hurt her and I most certainly didn’t want to hurt the investigation into the missing person case. My silence has seemed necessary, and not being part of the process to do as much as possible only increased my feeling isolated and sad. My special girl and I talked every time we saw each other, and it was also important to me to allow her to express the pain of the situation with her brother, and through those conversations, I could process some of the abyss of pain that occasionally threatens to swallow me.
On August 3, 2020, almost exactly 4-years after the horrifying call that Christopher was missing, the call came that his remains had been found and matched DNA. Although an expected relief, it was also devastating. You truly don’t realize how much you’re holding out hope until you no longer have that option. To say losing my son is devastating would be a gross understatement. Unless you’ve been through the loss of a child, you can only empathize and for those of you that have also experienced it, I’m deeply sorry that you understand that type and level of pain.
In my younger years, I speculated that if I lost a child the only thing keeping me grounded would be knowing the other kids needed me, and I loved being their Mom. I have found that to be true, although my faith, and knowing Christopher would want us to live our lives fully and with some of his innocent wild abandon also pushes me to move forward.
Years ago, I looked forward to my dreams of that shy, blue-eyed little girl and the potential future we held. I never would have guessed that through her, I would find so much more. She is a constant reminder that even through terrible, grief-laden loss, there is also an outstanding propensity for blissful joy.
Jenn Taylor, Executive Contributor Brainz Magazine
Jenn Taylor is Mom Of 18 and The Naked Podcaster, a Mindset Coach, and Motivational Speaker. She is also an NLP Practitioner and has 15+ years in the foster care sector as both a parent and a trainer, has written the blog - Mom’s Running It - for 9 years, and is a published author of a self-help memoir "Hello, My Name Is... Warrior Princess". She teaches Compounding Joy, bringing fast, easy, actionable exercises to people to increase their joy and gratitude. She is also married to an amazing man in Reno, NV, is a runner, minimalist, and healthy lifestyle enthusiast.
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