One of Zane’s close friends, who calls me “Ma”, has been a part of our family for over twenty years. A self-proclaimed orphan, he spent a lot of time at our home because of the dysfunction of his own home. I watched this brave young soul rise above every challenge when most would have thrown in the towel.  I have had the honor of cheering him on over the decades and am quite proud of our bonus kid. I have said forever that he needs a place to call his own to really heal. Last week I received an invite to view a house with him. He was finally ready to buy.

This experience was a deja-vu for me to the time where my son-in-law invited me to help pick out his wedding suit. Both experiences were ones I had planned to experience with Zane. Instead, I find myself living vicariously through his friends. The house hunting triggered memories of Zane and I planning his first home and all that it would be. It had to be near nature, it had to have a great kitchen, it had to be accessible to his friends and family and it had to have a vibe that brought him peace. The plan was he would graduate, travel, then move into a home of his own.

As I walked through the first place we looked at, it felt odd. It was more like a family abode, rather than a bachelor pad. I had promised myself not to have an opinion but rather be another set of eyes, so I walked through with him watching his reaction and sensing his energy. He didn’t like the place either.

The second home we stepped into had a calmness about it. It had a magnificent kitchen and a modern feel with a backyard backing onto a pathway, lots of trees, large (new) windows that lit up every room. And each light switch had a dimmer on it; a bonus he giggled about. I knew this was the one. I kept quiet until he said, “I’m thinking I really like this…” and I squealed with joy.

Later that night, I received a text that he was putting an offer in. I crossed my fingers. The next text said, “I GOT IT”. I hit dial, and we cried and laughed over the phone at his dream coming true. When I hung up, I continued crying for the loss that Zane did not have the same ability to purchase his own place. Fate had other plans, but they did include the ability for me to be a part of finding the perfect place for one of his best friends. Gratitude can be found in bittersweet moments.

The night ended with one last text. A photo of my bonus kid’s celebratory drink. He likes scotch. And the ice rock in the glass was one I had given out at a birthday party for Zane. The word wobupa etched into it. A favorite word of Zane’s meaning “I am not afraid”. I texted a reply, “you have a buddy looking over you”.   And I have a strong sense my son will be visiting his friend in his new place of peace and joy.