I went to counseling on Friday. It was good to have a place to cry and work out who I am without my Hobbit. I haven’t been able to finish the autobiography that I have been working on, and I have felt a sense of loss at not even knowing about Sam’s childhood. There is no one living who knows about Sam’s infancy or toddlerhood. He wasn’t adopted until he was six. But all the pictures that his biological grandmother gave him are in a book and I am using them to make him a scrapbook, because I am trying to fill those memory holes that not only I have no idea about, but Sam himself didn’t know about. I will try to make a book, like I’ve made for most of my kids, so they can remember Sam and experience his life–the life we didn’t get to find out about with him, the past that we didn’t get to talk about with him because we didn’t have enough time. I felt like this would help me somehow, help me fill up that hole that exists because there just wasn’t enough time to know all of Sam’s stories.
This is the first page: