Overall, fosterboy is adjusting well, but I found him late last night in the kitchen. He thought he was alone, the house quiet and asleep, and he was crying, trying his best to stay silent. The poor boy had just received the news that his owner had died.

I hadn’t been informed yet, and hearing of my dear friend’s passing hit me hard. But I needed to be strong and present for him. I held him as he sobbed, and we shared memories of the woman he loved and served, the same woman I called a friend. He needed that, and so did I.

Eventually, the other boys woke for their morning routines. They found us in the kitchen and joined us in honoring her memory. They all knew her in different ways, and we all had our own emotions to process, but the shared focus was to support fosterboy. He feels like his whole world has ended. But he is not alone. He’ll be okay.

I’m turning off comments on this post. I know the love is there, and I’m grateful for it. But I don’t have the capacity to see it all right now. Thank you for understanding.