I once experienced loss much as you describe.

A rare emotional connection with an autistic child, severed by the parents’ decision to place the child in an autism care facility at the age of 10.

I do not judge them for their decision. The day-to-day impact of the child’s autism on their family was tremendous.

When the mother left the family, and the father worked F/T nights to provide for his children, I often continued my daily care of the child into the night, and sometimes over the course of several days.

One of the few words the child would say was my name.

For me, the child would interact socially with others. For me, the child would sit quietly for lessons, and learn.

The child loved to ride piggy-back when we walked across the school grounds, and I often obliged. Despite my colleagues admonishments.

They had no such ties with their neuro-typical children, and surely did not understand the bond my atypical and I shared.

Or the fact that all those noisy running screaming children was just too much stimulation for his already over-whelmed senses.

Hanging on and peering out from behind the halo of curly hair, the world was safer, more calm. With me, the child was reassured.

Yes, our dear Jen, I understand.

Your heartache is real.

And so is the LOVE you showered on that child.

You may be the only example of that kind of LOVE she ever experiences.

And that is not sad, because if you had not opened your heart and ears to God’s voice, she never might have known that LOVE at all.

Our Lord said that we should return good for evil. Your recognition that they are probably not “targeting” you is probably true, but I think insufficient.

It was said of St. Teresa of Avila that the surest way to win her friendship was to wrong her in some way. I have always believed that when someone causes us to suffer, it is God’s way of telling us that He wants us to pay attention to that person, which for a Christian should always be by loving them.

Archbishop Sheen once said that when a shepherd wants to lead his flock, he picks up a little lamb and walks away, and the flock follows.

Our Lord has brought these little lambs into your life, and lead you to love them, and now He has taken them away. Maybe He is using the lovable lambs (who once seemed not so lovable in your eyes, IIRC) to lead you to love the less lovable goats?

I believe God weaves strands of beauty and hope through our lives and sometimes these take the form of angelic-like intervention from other people. It may be only a smile across a room that can lift someone’s heart or save them from dark intentions. It may be a few weeks of friendship and attention from an adult over summer. Riley came and went from your life only briefly, but I have no doubt your influence will remain with her always. And hers with you.

I am constantly amazed to think of the way God takes the most miniscule events of human thought and action, times every human who has ever lived, and weaves them all together for his sovereign purposes. Who, but God, knows what may bloom someday from the little seeds you have already planted through your interactions with her?

It reminds me of a poem that I’d copy for you if I could find it, called, “Planting My Garden.” It’s about someone who plants a seed and goes away, never able to know who, if anyone, came along to water and tend it. The last line is something like, “But somehow, someday, I may see, My garden blooming in eternity.”

I also agree with erin — you might want to try taking some books over to her home. That would let Riley know you’re still thinking of her (imagine what she must be going through right now!) and it might serve as another reminder to her guardians that you really meant it when you said she was welcome to spend time in your home.