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I was tidying up in the dining room today, deliberately ignoring the bright pink purse on the bench.  But suddenly, I wanted to touch anything of hers, and especially to rifle through her "locker" as the the little bench had become during the years she was taking courses at home.  I needed to see her handwriting.  I needed to see her exclusive mark on the world, and run my fingers over the letters.


Somewhere under the pile of school folders- color-coded to help her organize- I came upon a little purple owl agenda I'd gotten her one day during one of our many pilgrimages to Barnes and Nobles.  A little sound of recognition, joy tinged with misery, escaped my throat.  I excitedly began to leaf through it, not finding a lot, as some pages had been removed from the spiral binder:  her cousin, Blakie's cell number, her Aunt Kim and Uncle Bud's home number. and some random notes.  As I flipped through, I found a page with the makings of a grocery list, and recognized it as the planning for our Big Non-Turkey Thanksgiving Feast:  roast chicken, roast beef, garlic shrimp, sweet potato casserole, garlic roasted mashed potatoes, mac-n-cheese, green bean casserole, sautéed mushrooms, asparagus, and stuffing.  Desserts:  pumpkin pie, chocolate chip cookies? 


I cannot tell you how special this single piece of paper is to me.


I found a second journal further down in the bench.  It has a little girl writing a letter on the cover.  I already knew what was inside.  Cory's therapist had suggested journal writing to work out her feelings about her biological father.  With a deep sense of sadness, I read her entries- conflicting, raw, emotional, full of a yearning love and bitter resentments.  I marveled at how Cory, so young and vulnerable, beset with a mental illness was still able to find a healthy way to cope with the pain.  Drugs and alcohol were not her mistakes to make.  She'd gotten a good, hard look down the path others had taken, and wanted nothing to do with it. 


My father is the best man I know.  I am by definition a "daddy's girl".  I will never forget being put in my place by a mentor of mine about Cory's conflicting feelings about her father.  My mentor told me to remember that I  had a father, a good father, a positive role model, an anchor.  Cory, since birth, had not had that particular type of relationship, and would always crave it.  I must try to put myself in Cory's place, walking the tightrope of protecting herself while reaching out with the possibility of being turned away once again.  It was, by way of reading Cory's words, one of the most difficult paths to walk, but she did it with strength and self-preservation.  I admire her so much for that.  She was much stronger at her age than I ever was. 


Accepting the truth when you want it to be anything else is something I still struggle with to this day.


Strong, Cory, you were strong, strong, strong.