The Next Season

We're moving into another season, Fall.  And with it, a whole new set of firsts without Drew.  And the firsts are always hard.

Like when we entered into the Spring and Summer, there were things I know I'll be sad during--like the first visit to the pumpkin patch without Drew.  I'll never see how much he would have grown...

We're having the first cool days with the windows open and the sound of the leaves shuttling down the sidewalk, without his shopping cart wheels running over them. The leaves will pile up in the backyard, and this time only one child will play in them.

But there is also the unexpected things, the things I didn't realize would be difficult firsts.  Like yesterday, the leaf sucker truck came by for the first time without a squealing little boy watching it from the window suck up the leaves out of the gutter.  And with the leaves, it sucked the wind right out of me.

This truck's typical weekly passing is a seasonal occurrence, which gave more thrill than the always-around garbage truck.  We could hear it coming from down the street since it's so loud, and they'd eagerly wait with anticipation by the window and watch it go by. Yesterday I stood at the window alone, as it went by for the first time without any excitement, without any fanfare.  Because now I have one at school, and one in Heaven, so no one is here to get excited with me.  With my eyes closed, but tears streaming, I tried to hear his little voice again, "Here it comes!!" and go back to at time when this first of the fall event would have been met with cheers...


With the new season, though, we have some new things.  Things that Drew was never a part of, which is a little easier.  Like our ISU season football tickets we decided to purchase.  The games have been fun to be a part of, and Molly is really enjoying the atmosphere:

We are watching our first garden finally produce crops--tomatoes and pumpkins that are finally starting to turn their vibrant red and orange colors:

And of course Molly in Kindergarten, which she loves, and I'm finding isn't so bad myself.  Her riding the bus (her favorite part), and being there all day (until 2) is different, and makes our whole day different. 

But even in these new events, it's hard to not try to place him here in my mind.  I stand at the bus stop in the afternoons picturing him sitting in his gator, he'd be able to drive by now I'm sure, waiting to see her bus come over the hill.  He'd get excited, "There it is!".  She'd climb down the steps and most likely push him over so she could be in the driver's seat.  He'd let her do it of course, and they'd drive down the sidewalk together back to our house...

And the football games--how much he would have enjoyed the excitement and atmosphere!  He'd have been on cloud 9!  I'd have gotten him a cute jersey like he had before to wear, and he'd love to roll down the hill during the games.

And as I continue to be active at the Y, I drop Molly off in the childcare room.  I've sometimes scanned the area, which toys would he have played with?  Which children would have been his friends? 

But reality always sets in.  He's not here.  He isn't doing those things, or being with us there.  Through these new activities he was never a part of, I can see the handwriting on the wall, I can feel the shift--we're beginning our new life.  A life that doesn't physically include our son anymore.  I can feel the change, no longer does it feel like he was just here, but just that he was here, can you hear the difference?  My heart can.  And once again, it's crying.  Screaming at us for "moving on" so casually.  It's holding on with it's last bit of energy to the life we had with Drew, not wanting to let go.

But my head is trying to convince it, Drew's not back there in that life where it wants to stay.  It's okay that we're moving forward, because so has Drew.  Someone commented a while back, and I think I finally get it--Drew's not in the past, but in the present, just somewhere else.  I'm not abandoning him, because he's not here.  I can't let my heart believe those lies.  And we have a future together that we are one day closer to each time the sun goes down.  I wouldn't want him to be sitting in Heaven, crying over what was, but enjoying what IS.  And I shouldn't feel guilty about doing that myself.

This space is where I've been sharing ever since Drew's been gone, the day to day struggle, the ups and downs, we've experience after the loss of a child.  What the "unimaginable" actually looks like in real life, how it plays out in just a regular person's everyday, someone just as human as you.  Not sugar coated, hopefully not dramaticized, but also not downplayed.  It has been a hard journey.  And I hope I've shown that one can't get through it alone, but needs the hope, the strength, and the peace that comes from God alone.  So this is just one more phase of the process, another section of the journey.

  And the further we get into it, the more I'm seeing it'll be a lifelong journey.  It's never "gotten over", but becomes a part of you.  You learn to manage it, to deal with the waves of grief.  Sometimes you can see the waves coming, like in an upcoming season.  And sometimes they take you by surprise like songs on the radio and leaf trucks coming down the street.  It's a price I gladly pay, a burden I'll gladly carry each day, for the privilege I had, and have, of being Drew's mom.  I'd rather cry each day and have had the time I did with him, then have not had him at all, but be spared this heartbreak.  It gives new meaning to the old saying, "It's better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all"

Each season I go through with all it's firsts, even though its so hard, I see how true that saying is.  It is SO much better to have had you and loved you Drew, even if I had to give you back, then to never have had or loved you at all...And I still love you baby, I always will.