Six Months Free

Not too long ago, we marked 6 months without Drew here with us.  It's hard to believe it's been that long, and then some days that it has only been that long.  On good days, I can see the light, how we will be okay through this, and I have hope for our future in this lifetime.  But there are still some days when all I can do is hold on to the Truth I know, and the Hope that goes beyond this lifetime.  The Hope that we will all be together again, and everything will be made right in this broken world.

Six months Drew's been free.  Free from the rapidly growing cancer that literally suffocated him in his final week.  Free from tubes, scans, procedures and pain. 

For six months in Earth time he's been completely whole, basking in God's glory.  Receiving a reward that doesn't even compare with the suffering he endured.  I explained to Molly on July 19th that it was like Drew's half birthday.  "Huh?"  She looked confused.  It's his half birthday from when he was born into Heaven.  If we choose to, we can celebrate it like that, because isn't it a celebration?  Shouldn't it be?  Drew went Home.  And was spared from any more suffering and disappointment he'd surely face down here.  Into the loving arms of Jesus Himself.

What has he done in this much time?  Maybe he's got all his hair back by now.  Maybe he's gotten used to hearing again--all the frequencies (remember the transplants wiped out his high frequency hearing).  He surely has learned how to eat again, and tasted all sorts of amazing things.  Has he had a chance to sit on my Grandpa Ploen's lap?  Played some Marbles with his Great Great Grandma La Von after he showed her around?  How about the Tree of Life, he loved that sleeping tree at the Village in Florida, maybe he's found the ultimate Tree.  I hope he's gotten to drive whatever it was he said he wanted to that last day we had together.  Is he really growing, did he turn 3?  Molly would like to know.  I wish we could get an update.  But I guess we'll have to wait and dream.

What have we done?  Well, I first think we've just been quite sad.  But then, I guess we've done a lot too.  Updated his room.  Gotten through countless firsts--not just holidays and his birthday, but the hard ones no one knows. Like the first Gator ride with only one seat filled, the first night not tucking him in, the first nice day without his shopping cart being pushed down the sidewalk.  We've started to give back, and help others going down the same difficult road through Warrior Wagons.  Yes, we've been quite sad, but we've also had some good days too.  Maybe six months out that's something to celebrate.  Through God's strength we've been able to choose joy.

Six months in, I've felt like some with us are running out of steam.  That some are getting burnt out from helping me through the hard work of grieving. At first I was upset at some phone calls not returned, some texts that went unanswered.  Has our pain been forgotten about?  Can we really be expected to shoulder this alone already?  Doesn't anyone care anymore?  But I think that's not it.  It's just that there's nothing else to say.  There's nothing else that can be done.   Even I feel like that sometimes--there's just nothing else to say but that, I miss him. So, so much.  And no one really can do anything to make it all better.   Eventually, we will have to live on our own with this burden of what wasn't meant to be.  We'll learn to function with the deep split in our hearts that probably will never heal just like new.

I decided I don't want to hurt my relationships with family and friends because I'm angry they can't keep up with this sorrow.  I can't be upset they need a break, I wish I could have one!  So I decided to go beyond what's worked up until now.  What else is there?  Support groups.  I got a flyer for one from the funeral home on just the right day (funny how God does that).  So I went, it met at the Senior Center at 10 AM, one day a week for the summer session.  I was expecting to be the youngest by far, and I was.  But, I've found some useful material, perspective, and understanding there--me and the widows/widowers.  I also talked with the Child Psychologist while I was delivering Wagons the last time at Mayo.  The same guy who I talked to all last year as our dramatic story unfolded.  And that helped too.  He knows me.  He knows our family.  He's familiar and knows what I need to hear.  These new resources have helped refresh me, as I shared that I was getting pretty overwhelmed and tired as I'm moving through this difficult season of my life.

And lately God's showing me people do still care, I just need to see it.  Just like the things to be thankful for, I need to take to heart all the ways I'm being loved by others.  Instead of focusing on the one friend that didn't reply to my text, or the call that wasn't returned, I need to look around.  And I feel foolish for even thinking that I've been abandoned.  The ladies who stop me walking around Mill Pond to tell me how much my last post touched them.  Kids at the pool who know us through Drew and spent a whole afternoon shouting, "Heidi!  Watch this!", like I had a fan club.  And all the heartfelt comments and reactions in this virtual world from people I've never met. 

And friends who care enough to arrange a hot air balloon ride for me after I casually mentioned I'd like to go up in one someday on Facebook.  Yes, that next week multiple people contacted a gentlemen in town who has a balloon trying to get me a ride, and the very next weekend, we went up. 

Bright and early I watched the sunrise as peacefully as we did into the morning sky. 

Seeing our town get smaller and smaller the higher we rose, I couldn't help but think it may be a glimpse of what my Drew gets to see.  And also showed me how small we are in this big, beautiful world. 

We went over some fields before we came back down.  As I looked over row after row of corn and beans...

I immediately remembered the truth God's shown me time and time again, Trust Me.  I'll get you through this big field of life.  Like the Good Farmer steering a little tractor, some passes have been and will be harder than others, but, row by row, we'll get it done--my Lord and I.  And then, I'll get to be free too.  Free from the ache in my heart, the disappointment of this world, and be born into Heaven where I'll too get to bask in the very Glory of God with my baby boy...