True Stories of Adoption

Lilly again

It’s been two years since I last saw my little brother and my heart aches. I can remember details from that morning and I won’t soon forget. The previous month had been my 16th birthday and my parents had gifted me a bright yellow 1972 Volkswagen Bus. That cold morning my family drove that car to Max’s school. The night before we had held each other in tears and loud sobs on the floor of that car. I’m sure you can still find tear stains buried in the carpet.
“I don’t want to leave.” Max had managed to gasp between violent sobs.
“I know baby!” My mother whimpered. “But you have to.”
It was true, we did have to give him up. The child my family had given so much up for, we had to give up. In the past eight years Max had become violent and had put uneasiness and anxiety into our hearts. We put locks on our doors and kept them sealed at night. We were frightened Max would harm us while we slept.
I cannot describe how painfully stressful those eight years truly were. And just in a few moments everything was gone but the scars remained. Two years later and the scars have just now began to fade.
Max had ADHD and ADD and his medication was expensive. He needed treatment in care facilities but insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment, in result Max became out of control. Max had cruel and uncontrollable outbursts. He would charge at us trying to cause harm, he would throw objects at our heads. He would cuss us out and tell us how much he hated us and wanted to kill us, he told us how he wanted to kill us at night while we slept. He caused his own adversity, caused his own pain.
My family watched as Max walked away. We didn’t know when or if we were going to see him soon or at all. The ride to Luke and I’s school was quiet and I felt like a fist of thorns was choking my heart. It felt like my held-back tears were slowly suffocating me. I could still smell Max’s body odor he left behind everywhere he went, it was terrible but it was familiar.
I couldn’t handle first period and I left to go to the office. A counselor comforted me while I mourned for my lost brother. I think I spent a total of two hours with my school counselor that excruciating day.
My mother stayed home all day grieving for her lost child. She blamed herself for the failed adoption. No matter how many times my father and I tell her, she will always blame herself. My mom is going to carry the weight of giving up her child for the rest of her life, it will haunt her while she sleeps and while she is alone.
“This is your fault! You have caused this!” The shadows will whisper in my mother’s ear. She will have dreams of Max crying and begging to stay with our family. Max will haunt my family in our dreams.
“Mommy let me stay! I promise I’ll be good! Please mommy!” This is something I can still hear in the silence. Max was begging for something he ruined. He begged for something he lost the privilege to have.
I feel greedy knowing I will never have to beg like Max did that night. I am and will always feel selfish that I could stay and Max didn’t.