I've been experiencing a strong feeling of guilt since Darcy's suicide. Not because I could have done more for her, or should have seen the signs or anything like that. But more because I know everything there is to know about her daughter. I know all of it. When she reached her milestones, what her favorite song is, where each freckle is located on her body. I know the precise moment during her tantrums when I should bend down and ask her if she needs a hug. I know everything a mother should know. Only Darcy didn't know. She missed out on all of it. Of course I would fill her in, but its not the same as experiencing it.

Today, at the funeral, I felt the resentment from her family. The looks of scorn and anger that said,"What are you doing here". Like I was responsible for the apprehension of her children. For her pain and her fall from grace. I honestly wasn't prepared for it. I accepted it and I understand the need to lash out, but it hurt. I wanted to explain some things to them, but it wasn't the time or place. So I'm afraid I'm going to explain it to you guys instead.

They talked at the funeral about Darcy the mother. How she enjoyed her time with her kids so much. Well, in three and a half years, the only time she got to see her children is if I brought them to her. I had to supervise each visit. For 2 of those years I went 4 days a week so she could feel connected to them. Never once did I tell her I was too busy. I picked her up for every doctors appointment so she could hear first hand what the doctor had to say. I brought her shopping so she could pick out Brookie's clothes herself. I brought the kids to see her at prison, the remand center, the Psych ward at HSC, mental health halfway houses, and various rehab centers. I brought her weekly to sign in at her parole officers so she wouldn't breach and get sent back to jail. Brookie chose her Christmas gifts, birthday gifts, mothers day gifts, and just because gifts. All paid for by me. And I know that most of the time those were the only gifts she received. I researched and helped her access places that could help her. I helped her move her shit from one house to another numerous times.

AAAAHHHH.... I tried to help her in everyway I know. And all they can see when they look at me is an interloper. Someone who doesn't even have a right to be at the funeral. I'm getting mad just sitting here. None of them stepped forward when Brookie was born. I did not sneak into the hospital and snatch her. I was a foster parent and she was placed in my care. I was a stranger who was willing to do what none of the family wanted to do. Raise her child, their relative.

This isn't about me feeling self important. Not at all. I just didn't want to feel so out of place. I wanted to find comfort there with other people who knew and loved her. Instead I found rejection.

Now I'm going to get really mean, and I'll likely delete it in a few days.

Where were you, you who look at me with contempt, these past 3 years while I spent time with Darcy? While I took time away from my family to make sure she saw her kids? When she had to come to my family gatherings, because you wrote her off so long ago. Who did she call every time she needed someone? Who brought her home for a hot meal when she shared she hadn't eaten in days. Who went toe to toe with social workers to advocate for her rights? Who washed her face and the blood from her hair when she was beaten beyond recognition?

And who held her daughter's hand today as she laid a single flower into the grave of her mommy. And who prompted her to say, "Good bye mommy, I love you".

I'll tell you who. Not you.

I know who will be there for Brookie, me, same as always. If that upsets you, so be it.