11 Years Old

My April Fools baby would be 11 years old today. It's the 9th time we've celebrated Drew's birthday without him. The more time that goes by, the more tragic it seems that he only lived for less than 3 years. Each year that passes reminds me just how short his life really was. Watching Molly move through so many phases as she grows up, puts Drew's life in perspective. He never made it out of diapers. Didn't ever sleep in a big boy bed, let alone start school or get a phone. 

 

He did have his golden birthday, though. 

And celebrated his second, and last, birthday with a fiesta in a hospital conference room with a group of almost all adults--his family and the friends he'd made in the medical staff. 

 

That first birthday just a few months after he died really hit me hard. In my grief, I realized that what you celebrate on a child's birthday isn't just that they've completed another year of life. No, that's something most of us take for granted. But instead, it's the accomplished milestones and growth of the child along with the hopes and dreams for their future. You think as much about what they'll do in the years ahead as what happened in the last year. 

If your child dies, it feels like there's nothing to celebrate on their birthday. 

They didn't complete another year of life. Didn't reach any new milestones or show any growth. You can't dream about their future, look ahead to big goals. All that has died too. I learned that a mother mourns what could have been as much as what was--who was--on their child's birthday.

Over the years we've celebrated Drew's birthday without him, I've learned that there is something to celebrate on April 1st. We celebrate the gift Drew was to us for two years and nine months. On the day he was born, we held our newborn son and beheld a soul that would inspire so many with his joy and strength. And WE were chosen to be his parents, his family. Praise God.

God gifted Drew to us, and while it was only for a short time, I will celebrate that gift on April 1st.

In the time Drew was with us, we watched him grow into a little boy. Watched him gain skills that few toddlers have to master--like holding still for CT scans, tolerating echo cardiograms, and entertaining yourself in a hospital bed. 

 

 

 

He developed a real sensitivity, a compassion and understanding of people. Whether it was other sick children on the hospital floor, adapting to various adult companions who stayed with him at the hospital, or what the medical specialists needed from him for a procedure. He was a people person and was able to connect with truly everyone.

 

I've also learned in the years since he's been gone that he really isn't gone at all. He's still very much with us, just in a different way. It takes time to learn to see them, once someone you're close to dies. You have to work at opening your broken heart to their influence and presence in your life. Once you recognize your loved one's new place, you realize they didn't leave altogether. You just have to change where you look for them. It's not in their room or in their chair at the dinner table, but in the memories that come to mind at random times. The things you see in the world that couldn't be a coincidence. 

 

 

Special songs that you hear at just the right time. The warm feelings you have in your heart as you reach your own milestones in life. The joy of talking about them.

We still talk about Drew often in our house. It's one thing visitors have said after they've been with us for a few days in a row--"I didn't realize how much he's still talked about by name." 

Whether it's calling out the extra serving at dinner as Drew's (seems like every dinner or recipe I make has 4 portions), blaming him for random occurrences like things falling or weird noises, referencing one of his catch-phrases that were surprisingly well-timed for a two-year-old, or wondering out loud what life would be like if he was still with us--we DO still talk about Drew a lot, and bring him with us on each adventure we take as a family

   

His life is very much a part of the work I do now while Molly's in school. Warrior Wagons, his living memorial, keeps me busy with our eight branches. It serves as not only a way to keep his legacy alive and serve others, but also a reminder of the good that came from his short life. Encouragement that what was born on April 1st, 2014, wasn't lost on January 19th, 2017. It really did matter that Drew Becker was alive, if only for two years and nine months. And it still matters today.

 

And as I move into a new stage of producing the book telling his story, I can feel Drew with me there too. As I wrote it, his memory was so strong. And now I can feel his excitement in my heart as we get closer to sharing about his life with others. I want to write more about the journey I've taken in writing down our journey--Drew's and I's--but I'll save that for another time.

Today, on his birthday, I'll just remember my Drew. Thank God that 11 years ago, I was given a son. I found out for myself just how special the bond is between a mother and her baby boy. I am honored to forever be Drew's mom, and I look forward to the day I get to hold him in my arms again 💙

 

Guilt

"Ahhh...we're going to miss this someday!" Josh says on our after-work walk almost every day lately. 

All week it's been beautiful weather. Highs in the 60s, and next week, we're supposed to reach into the low 70s! Sunny, the fruit trees are starting to bud, the grass is green--it's picture-perfect by most standards, especially in February! Josh is loving it.

 

I faintly smile, and only mildly agree. For one, I miss snow and winter! It's aways been my favorite season. And while there is a "winter" here, it looks very different than most places I've lived. This year especially I've been looking forward to real winters again someday.

Also though, honestly, the summer here has ruined it for me. Even when it is a pleasant 67° and sunny, I haven't forgotten the MONTHS the temperatures were in the triple digits last summer. The memories of our AC going out during the worst of it and having my shampoo bottles still be warm after it got fixed for a couple days have not faded.

Is it worth it? A brutal summer for mild winters? No. I'm saying no.

Our first winter and spring, we marveled at the mild winter temperatures and lack of much precipitation at all. Not knowing what was coming. Not knowing what a 116° dry wind in your face feels like. People warned us, but I really had to experience it to truly understand the Fresno heat.

Now after surviving it, it's like I can't even enjoy the nice time of year because I know what it costs us. What goes along with 70s in February, 110°+ all summer long.

Now Josh has been reminding me how I have always been the one saying that the hard months make you appreciate the good ones. That without the undesirable seasons, you wouldn't enjoy the good ones quite as much. "What happened to choosing joy?" he asks.

It melted away in August.

Seriously though, I'm trying to enjoy the nice weather, but I just can't forget how bad the heat was and will be again...

You haven't heard from me too often lately, because we've been busy! There's a lot of good things going on in our lives right now. Molly gave swim team a try this spring and is really enjoying it! She's doing well in school and has friends. 

 

Josh's doing great in his role at work, and I'm definitely in my groove of balancing my work--Warrior Wagons, book, and housework--with my weekly activities and workouts. We're having fun on Friday nights eating our pizza together and binge watching whatever show we're on. Our calendar is starting to fill up with visitors and trips and plans for the first half of 2025 and we're looking forward to all of it.  

Warrior Wagons is doing really well too. We are about to open our 8th hospital this month, this one in Green Bay, Wisconsin! With this latest branch, we've doubled in size in under 18 months--crazy! The White Sox in Chicago have given us a nice grant, partnering with us for the year, which is really awesome and will be a lot of fun. It's astonishing to watch God grow this project of ours, and I'm grateful every day that I have the opportunity to do this work, to keep up with this living and growing memorial to our Drew.

My parents took our whole family on a cruise in January to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary! It was a fun trip to have all us siblings and spouses together, and the little and not-so-little cousins together. The ports were amazing! Almost all were new stops for us, and they were beautiful.

We are experiencing a really good season right now. Rewarding, delightful, refreshing.

But as I've written about before, with joy, sadness seems to always follow.

I look at the photos from our cruise and wish ALL the Grove cousins were together. I watch Molly swim her first meet and my heart both swells with pride and aches in the cracks because I'll never cheer for Drew in this life. As we're laughing with and showing off our current home in the central valley of California to visiting friends and family, there's always that empty chair in the car and at the table. While we experience new destinations and places and take in the breathtaking sights and delicious eats on our vacations, making awesome memories as a family, I'm sad that Drew won't be a part of those memories.

And as Warrior Wagons grows and I hear the praise and feedback from families, I never forget why we are doing this. How it felt to be those mothers, holding their babies as the first round of chemo drips into their IV, scared to death but knowing there's no other way. Praying their little boy lives to celebrate another birthday...

How can I just move on without my Drew? What does it mean if I can be living my best life without my son? 

Gosh, I'd give it all up in a minute to have my baby boy back. To have cancer never have touched our lives in the first place. To spare my sweet two-year-old the suffering I witnessed. It's not like I wanted all this over keeping him. Why should I get to enjoy all these things in life, and he didn't even get to turn 3??

And I think when it comes down to it, that's really just it. My heart still can't accept that I get to keep on living while Drew was denied that privilege. He got less than 3 years, and I'm about to celebrate 39.

Is this the guilt part of grief? Out of all the stages of grief, guilt is probably the one I've experienced the least. But maybe that's what I'm feeling. Guilty that I can be truly happy, that I can live a good life, even though my son isn't here with me. 

Now this is when my head comes in and says all the right things to my heart. We didn't and don't have a choice on what happened, so there's no need to act like it. Drew would want us to be happy, moving forward doesn't allow cancer to take any more from us. We are honoring him with all that we do, and he is with us just in a different way.

This internal struggle is not so different from the struggle I'm having with the weather. Am I going to not fully embrace the good seasons of my life because I can't move beyond the tragedy that happened to us? Am I going to allow the summer heat to ruin the beautiful spring even after it's past?

Good seasons are a gift. A reprieve. A chance to turn around and share comfort and encouragement with those whose turn it is to suffer. And you might as well enjoy the pleasant days because the summer is always coming again. As relatively young as I still am, I know that I'm not through with difficult seasons. I definitely have more periods in my life ahead that will be hard, that I will suffer. I shouldn't let guilt steal my joy in today.

I've been hashing this over in my head the last couple weeks. Since the weather has turned and we got settled back in from our January vacation. I'm trying to smile guilt-free and embrace the good things that we have in our life right now. Praying for contentment, gratitude, and perspective. And I think my heart is starting to come around. 

Then at my Bible study fellowship time this week, someone offered me a really good thought after I'd shared some of this. "Drew is having a MUCH better time than you are, dear! No need to feel sorry for him or guilty about the good things you're experiencing because he's got that joy times a million!" 

That's just the thing I needed to hear. My heart needed to be reminded of.

"He's in a better place" has obviously been said. But this week, the sentiment struck a different chord. If I think my life is good--man, think of what he's experiencing! Being surrounded by love and the glory of God. Being present with our loved ones on the other side. If I really believe Drew is in Heaven and in perfect peace, how silly it is to feel bad for him missing out on this life! How self-focused and Earth-oriented to feel guilty for the crumbs I get while Drew enjoys a feast. Drew is living the truly BEST life, it's not even close. Better than vacations and swim meet medals and pizza on Friday night by a long shot. 

So instead of pushing away the fun and happiness of this season I'm in, I will choose to embrace it. Thank God for all the good things we are enjoying and praise Him that the joy I'm feeling is what Drew is exponentially feeling. Leave guilt behind and see all the happy moments and good times as mere glimpses, tastes, of what's to come and what my little two-year-old boy is enjoying every moment. 

If you need me, I'll be soaking up the sun, in more ways than one, out here in California this spring.