Where my heart goes...

My eyes were a little wet before heading to the centre this morning. Thinking about the grade 10 student...her mom died on the 12th, Mid-Autumn Day--a traditional family gathering day. I knew she would probably die that day, but didn't find out till yesterday.

At least a few tears should fall each time I learn that someone I know loses someone.

My eyes were wet again walking home from the centre after lunch. The grade 12 guy who lost his dad on July 9th--at this weekly chat he cried again; it's so hard.  We talked about how he just couldn't hold the tears back at the night class on the 9th of this month. And how he keeps thinking (and I cry as I think it about it now), "He was dying, and I was playing." How does someone get over the guilt?

When I left the centre, another guy was still there. Since we've opened it up for them to stay and hang out after lunch--read, or do homework or just nap--he's stayed behind every time. He takes every single opportunity to stay, to hang out, to participate in activities.  I'm glad. Back in February I was worried about him. His older brother told me he had said he had considered suicide, was struggling. He lost his dad 7 years ago, must have been only 10, I'm glad he's signed up for the grief group in October. His mom, was seeing someone, but the family was opposed. That was awkward. But he is keen to grow and learn--admit his struggles and go forward. I think he'll be okay, but he needs a home.

Lots of stuff for high school students to face. I can't imagine. Well, I can, so ... I cry.

I cry, usually when they are not around, after I have been in their presence to comfort and walk along-side, help them find their way, lead them through a process that I think will help strengthen. And then I step back, reflect, process, and cry.

"Father of the fatherless, come down and rescue us. We need you. We need you again" (Jason Upton)

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