My sister is a foster parent. I have met one of her kids. The hardest thing about it was not knowing if I really made a difference in his life. My sister said he spent more time with me than he had with anyone, since he had arrived.
I was there two days only, I brought my Playstation, I am sure that helped. I told him, I know my sister can’t cook. We laughed, I ordered out for us and told him good luck with that before I left.
I also told him to read no matter what because, if you do that. You can know anything about everything.
About people, how to do things, illness, wellness, art, anything at all. I told him what Ray Bradbury said about having read 10,000 books in a number of years. After going to the same library everyday, he read every book there educating himself.
Our meeting was brief, I dropped him at his job and I left. Hoping he would be okay with himself in life. I also, hoped he knew that whatever got him in foster care wasn’t his fault.
“The hardest part is not knowing what became of them. Some come back and visit and others I never see again.” That was her the answer my sister gave after, asked what is the worst
thing about having foster kids. I thought she was going to say, feeling threatened or disobedience, “Not at all” she said.