A Letter to Dustin

Today is November 16, 2001. This letter is to my sweet son, Dustin.

On June 26, 1990, the world was blessed with a newborn child. That child held the strings to so many hearts in his hands and he didn't even know it. That child, born of teenage parents, was to become the son of my heart, if not the son of my body. He was to become the son of his dad's heart, if not his body. That child with the impish grin and loving personality took my heart and run with it. That child smiled and laughed his way into the hearts of all that came into contact with him.

At fourteen months old, that child sat in a car seat and watched his natural mother walk in front of a mini van. She was dead at the scene. In that one moment in time, his life would forever take a different course. That child's natural father could not or would not take care of him. At least that man/child had enough sense to bring the baby to me and my husband.

Upon arrival at our home, this wonderful, smiling baby had three changes of clothes, a coat, and one toy, but no shoes. Whether the clothes and shoes were not brought or not had, it is unknown. However, his personality shown through even at that young, tender age. He was always smiling, always laughing.

His great grandfather was living with us at the time. So, in November, 1991 our house was a diverse mixture of ages and personalities. Great-grandfather was 73 at that time, that baby was sixteen months old and in between, there was myself, who was 34, my husband was 27, my two daughters were 10 and 12.

I remember you sitting on your papa's lap while I vacuumed the floor. He was laughing, holding you as I acted like I was going to run you over with the vacuum. Your laughter floated throughout the house like a bubbling brook. Your papa made us take you to Wal-Mart to buy a push toy because you wanted to push the fly swatter around on the floor.

So many memories. So many good memories.

When you came to us to stay, you were sick. We had you in the doctor's office at least once a week, until February, when you were hospitalized for double pneumonia. Such a sick little baby. I held you through the night, either in the bed or in a rocking chair. Your dad sat with us, never leaving us, even though you were not his natural child. See even by then, you had taken our hearts.

Your sister, Tracy, perhaps loved you most of all. She would not let you sleep alone, because you were afraid of the dark. She held you, she carried you when you should have been walking. She treated you like her child. She held you in a rocker at night when you couldn't sleep and wouldn't come to me. Many nights she held you and rocked and dozed, then went to school the next day. You slept with her, either in her bed or in your bed next to hers, until she got married. I think you perhaps resented Michael for taking her away from you. However, Michael loved you dearly, too.

Sister Susan was perhaps your biggest champion, when Tracy would let her. Especially after Tracy married and moved out, Susan was your big sister with all the answers. She is the one that you would go to with problems when you thought we wouldn't understand. She took you to the movies, to the park, out to eat, just you and her. Today, she is the one that gets to visit with you, not us.

Your dad, Eddie. He took you to his heart. You are not his biological son, no. You are more than that. You are a child of his heart. He took you in and loved you like you were his, right from the beginning. He was so happy to have a child to call him daddy. He loves you as if you are his, which in many ways, you are. More so, because he chose you.

So many memories. Such pain that is running through me right now.

So, today as I look out my office window, the office that you have napped in the floor in, the office that you have played in, the office that is part of your life, I have this deep sadness in my heart. You see, for ten years, your biological father didn't see you, never came around, never called. He acted as if you did not exist. In July of this year he called and I said yes to visitation. I thought you should know your father. In all the years that we had you, we never spoke badly of him to you. Nor will I do so now. I do not know what he has said about us, nor do I care. I, as well as many others, knows that your dad and I raised you right, with love, laughter, and respect. You have been spoiled, yes I know this, we did it, gladly.

You know, there are so many memories wrapped up in you. You on the four wheeler, in your pool, on your first day of school, when you wouldn't let me go and cried at the top of your lungs. And the day that the principal called me at work, laughing, because finally, after two weeks of crying all day, you met her at the door with a smile, and said, "Look, Mrs. Cook, I am not crying today!"

The past ten years seem to have flown by at times and crawled at others. The major achievements that you have made through your disabilities, the minor set backs that have occurred, seem to blur. The time for you has come. The time for you to show your true self is upon all of us. You have been taken from the safety of our home. I know not what your future holds. I can not be there to help.

You see today, when Susan called to tell me what time she could have you, she was told by your father that we could not see you again. After this time tonight, we will not see you again. Your father took you from us on November 3, 2001. He promised us we could see you, but once again he has lied. He promised you that, right to your face. He lied. After I hold you in my arms tonight, it will be the last time I can hold you, the last time I can kiss your cheek. I want to wrap you in my arms and never let you go.

However, Tony is your father. He has the right to take you from us. He has the right to take you from a home where you have your own room, your own toys, your own everything. Take you from a home that is filled with love and laughter. Take you from the only home that you have ever known and put you into a two bedroom apartment with him, his wife, and four step sisters. I ask you, where is the justice??

So today, here is a promise that I make to you. I will always be there for you. I will find a way to let you know where I am if we should move. I will find a way to get you my phone number. I will always know where you are, even if I can't hug you or see you. I will be watching over you. I will be there for you, if and when, you ever want or need me.

So today, here is my prayer for you. May your life ahead be blessed, as you are truly a child that deserves the best. May your life be filled with love and happiness, because you are full of love and happiness. Although we all have trying times, my your trying times be far outnumbered with good times. In this world, filled with grief that we live in right now, the future is very uncertain. Life can be so hard, so difficult. You have been raised with the inner strength to overcome the hardships. You have been raised to believe that all good things triumph. You have been raised with love and laughter and respect. Keep the values that we have given you. Keep forever in your heart the knowledge that there is never going to be a person who was more loved than you.

Please always remember that we chose to raise you, to love you. We chose to keep you in our hearts. You, to us, are the chosen one. As time goes by, you will find peace within your soul, whether you are with us or not. You will find the joy of life, the joy of being who you are. Always, do the best that you can, as you have always been taught, and God will take care of the rest.