Great Sorrow, Great Joy, and Everything in Between

I must have started this post in my head a dozen times. I'd get ready to sit down and write, but each day I'd change my mind, my heart would shift, one way or the other. It seems can't decide how I feel about the anniversary of Drew's death coming up on Friday, or maybe it's that I don't just feel one way about it.

One day, I'm feeling actually okay, even somewhat pleased with where we are now and what we've accomplished in the last year. I feel like if my self from a year ago where to see what we have done, what we are doing in a year's time, I'd be encouraged, hopeful.

We've continued to live, not just be alive. Something I vowed to myself a year ago--I won't let this destroy us too. Cancer may have taken Drew's life, and that's done, but I won't let it take ours too.


And we haven't. We've traveled...

We've celebrated...

 

we've laughed, we've grown...

We've tried new things, started some new endeavors...

And we've loved each other and others beyond us. Which really, is probably pretty good.

And as I think back on the all that Drew went through--all he would have had to go through to remain with us, I'm grateful he's done with that. I'm at peace knowing he's not sick anymore, he doesn't have to be a "tropper", and he's free to be Drew...a perfect Drew. Experiencing things we only get glimpses of here on Earth. Surrounded by the love and perfect peace of God.

And another day, as I read through my CaringBridge posts from this week last year (my wonderful friend has archived them for me within this blog--under the "Drew's Story" tab, http://drawingfromdrewstory.blogspot.com/2017/09/1-15-17.html ; http://drawingfromdrewstory.blogspot.com/2017/09/1-17-17.html ), more specific emotions resurface. I had so many feelings as I watching his life end a year ago...

Witnessing the seemingly slow process, came across to me much like labor before a birth. He was sweaty. He was thirsty. He just wanted to hold our hands, and would fuss if we tried to do any more than that.

Yet, it was beautiful once I recognized it, once God allowed me to see what was happening through His eyes. He was laboring, he was preparing to be reborn into Eternity. Just like giving birth to a baby, it's a hard, painful process to separate from what you've only known. But it makes sense when it's over. You are where you are suppose to be, it couldn't have continued any longer the other way. And so it was, a year ago this week.

Bringing myself back to those last days, as I watched him work, I remember being so proud of him. Here he was, a sweet little boy only two years old, who had already endured so much, just laying there, patiently enduring the last of it. Not moaning, crying or even really whimpering... seeing him though, I also felt panicked too. I just wished I could do it for him, wished I could make it stop. My heart seemed to scream, "Just leave him alone already! He's had enough." It broke my heart. I told him several times that week how proud I was of him, how much I loved him, and that he could be "all done".

And finally...he was.

There was relief when it was finished. When the rattled breathing stopped, and his little body finally was still. I knew he was free. And that he was, at that very moment, with Jesus, completely healed. I felt peace, it was like a weight was lifted off of me even if a new one was being placed, because he was done. I got my wish, and would now bear the struggle, so he didn't have to anymore.

Reading through these posts also reminds me of the calm, the peace I somehow felt, obviously from the Above. I remember writing those words, but still cannot claim them as my own. God was as much talking to me as to everyone else, and the words speak to me just as much as I've re-read them this week. How beautifully tragic. How amazingly sweet, and totally awful at the same time. But He never left us, never abandoned us after we followed Him up that tall mountain.

And isn't that all we are promised? As I also struggle this week to keep myself from getting too deep into the "whys", the anger, and the disappointment, He reminds me the only promise He actually made and has faithfully kept--that He would never leave us. Not that we'd never suffer, or that we wouldn't struggle, but we'd never be alone. Jesus in Matthew 28:20b, " I will be with you always," and God to Joshua in Joshua 1:5 "I will never leave you or forsake you", and of course in Psalm 23: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death....you are with me". Certainly He has kept that promise. Clearly, He never left us, even in our darkest hour, and every hour since. And that gives me hope. He will continue to be with us, and with Him, we can get through anything. What do I have to fear? (Psalm 27:1)

Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Read more at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christiancrier/2015/10/15/top-6-bible-verses-about-god-being-with-you/#p2FL6toBU88wOwMu.99

Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Read more at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christiancrier/2015/10/15/top-6-bible-verses-about-god-being-with-you/#p2FL6toBU88wOwMu

And then today, I just miss him. OH, I miss him. What would he be like now? Almost four, I can't even picture it. He is so different than Molly in many ways, yet definitely one of us Beckers. I miss his laugh, his antics, his faces, his smell. I miss the noise, the fighting, the struggle of getting two little kids in and out the door. I miss holding him in the middle of the night. Hearing him talking, singing, playfully calling out for me in his room after I told him not to before bed.

I miss holding both my baby's hands on the way into Walmart. Looking in my rearview mirror and seeing two faces. I miss boy clothes in the wash, and shoes by the door. I miss having them both around my kitchen table and in my tub...

I miss then both in my lap side-by-side on the couch, or in the chair, one on each knee...

I miss a part of me.  Even though he looked so much like his dad, I could recognize a part of me in his attitude, his excitement for life.  And I miss seeing it in him.

It's the pictures of the two of them together before everything changed that really get me. I just ache for those days again....for what used to be.

  

For the times before I knew how terrible this world can be, when I was fairly oblivious to the suffering going on so close to home. I miss the innocence that used to be in our house. I miss the days Molly didn't know what cancer was, and we didn't talk about death and Heaven so casually. I miss being normal, being average, being like seemingly everyone else...

I've learned a lot in the last year, much that I will have to write about next. But the biggest is that you can feel all sorts of emotions at the same time. That its possible to feel great sorrow, and great joy, in the same instance. And both are very real, and very strong, yet they don't cancel each other out. I can decide that I won't let the sad wipe out the joy, but I also have to accept that all the joy in the world won't erase the heartache. I can expect and accept that probably for the rest of my life I will experience both the good and the bad together, and it's okay.

I think about how different my life is now than a year ago. How normal my days appear now, compared to what they were. It hits me some days how many new friends I've made this year--at the Y, families through Warrior Wagons, Molly's new Kindergarten friends' moms--that never knew Drew. Sure, they know about him, but never knew him... They never knew me with two kids, with a son, and never knew us during the time cancer was such a part of our lives. And even some old friends too--one moved away the week Drew was born, and moved back the week he died, really. All she's seen me with is Molly, never Drew. It's weird.

But I guess as time goes on, this is the way it'll be. We'll have logged more time being influenced by Drew, then actual time with Drew. Years from now it'll be an even fewer percentage that actually knew him versus know about him. But some day, you all can meet him. He'll be every bit as awesome as I've made him sound. I can't wait to introduce him to you.

So as I face the day he died on Friday, January 19th, I go into it with all these emotions--reluctant contentment, peace, relief for him, and hope. But also with remorse, longing, and disappointment. I'm a different person than I was a year ago, and even more different than I was two years ago. I like who I've become in a way, however, I can be so sad for what it has cost to get here. For the expense Drew paid in his life that he shouldn't have been required to pay. But, as I've seen this whole year, I'll get through it. And now I'm one year closer to being with him again, one year closer to being as free from this world and all these struggles as Drew is today, and has been for a whole year.


Happy Heavenly Birthday Babycakes. I'm still so proud of you, and I love you so very much. I miss you terribly, but I'm glad that you're all done. "See you" someday again, for all days ❤

Together Through Joy and Our Love

We made it through. Molly's back to school, the tree is put away, my house is clean again, laundry caught up, the fridge is stocked. The first Christmas as a family of three, done. And you know? It was okay. Much like the whole of last year, it had its high and low points, but the highs outweighed the lows, and I guess that's all we can hope for.

I am so glad I took the time to think, to feel, and to grieve before the celebrations began. To get my head in the right place, so it could guide my heart through. As Christmas came closer and closer, I braced and repeated in my head all I know to be true. But the closer it got, I was surprised how less and less I had to remind myself why I could have joy--because Molly was SO full of it.

So much like her brother during his last year of life, Molly got so excited, nearly burst with joy during the last 2 weeks, it was nearly impossible to not have joy with her.

She made a sign to welcome Santa (with some help), and carefully picked out carrots for the reindeer, and left a cute note along with cookies for the big guy.

She went to bed so full of anticipation and excitement that night, that the shadow of Drew, although still there, shifted to the background, as I was just as eager as she was for morning to come so I could see her reactions the next morning.

Morning came, and she opened her gifts, squealing with delight...

Even a special one I bought "for" Drew. You see, as I wrapped dolls and pink Legos and sparkly crafts, I just had to wrap something for a boy. For MY boy. So I went where I knew I couldn't go wrong--the John Deere dealer. I took my time looking over each shelf, the same ones Drew picked a toy from last year. I finally decided on the perfect one. A hay baler attachment for his big tractor. Molly and I had talked about them a lot in fall as we'd see them in the fields, and I knew she'd love it too.

Will I do this every year? Maybe. Maybe this can be a new tradition, a "thing"-- we'll add to our Green collection each year. Perhaps after time it'll be just a little ornament or trinket. But for now, as not only Molly, but other little boys visiting still play with the tractors, it made me happy to buy and wrap up something for Drew's tractor to pull... 

After we opened Santa's gifts, we went straight to Ames for Christmas Eve/Day with my family. It was a nice time and I'll never forget the awe and wonder in her eyes as she stared at the candle during the Christmas Eve service.

We all stood together with my 96 year old Grandma, watching my mom on stage with the choir, singing Hark the Herald by candle light. As we sang of the angels singing "Glory to the newborn King", I thought, I bet Drew has that same look of wonder and awe. Surrounded by all of our loving relatives already in Heaven with him, not only singing of the same Glory, but actually being a part of the Glory. It really is mind blowing to think about: my Drew, a part of His Glory...

And as the tears fell, a peace washed over me, a familiar calm that I've felt before. I could feel us together somehow, the four of us, through the divide between this life and Heaven, in joy and through love. And my heart could believe for a few minutes that it's going to be okay, we are going to be ok...


And of course Molly's birthday. It was an all day affair, celebrating her turning six years old. From start to finish, it was a everything a little girl could want! I put some streamers and balloons around the house before she woke up, and made a special breakfast. At the Y, she "got" to play in the kid's room she normally doesn't get to go to anymore since she's in school (bonus Mom got her workout in😉), then after a quick stop at home for me to shower, we met some friends for lunch at McDonald's--since we don't normally do Happy Meals it was a treat too! Then she and I went to the nail salon for her first manicure, which she loved! We opened gifts at home after Josh got home from work, went to Pizza Ranch for supper (one of her favorites), and capped the day off with a candle in her snowflake cookie. Whew! I was tired. But it was worth it.

Something about birthdays now. I have always enjoyed birthdays, and used to vow I would never be upset about my age, it's a privilege to make it another year! Well, after this year, this truth has never been so true. And on December 26th, I celebrated the gift that Molly is to me. On the day she was given to us, and everyday since.

I celebrated the strength, wisdom, and bravery in my little girl that's not-so-little anymore. The way she pulled me into the wonderful season of Christmas with her joy and excitement, is just what she's done for me all year, and what I suspect she'll do the rest of our lives. She'll help me to find joy in life, because she does. And I won't take a single of her birthdays for granted. I will celebrate and be so grateful for each one I get with her here with me. And really, shouldn't that be the way it is anyway, for all of us?

And so we did it, the Beckers made it through the end of 2017. Maybe not all together like we'd hoped at the beginning of the year...

...but together in a new way. Through joy and our love for each other, possible through the Grace of God, the Beckers were together at the end of 2017 too, I felt it. And I will take that with me as we begin this first year that Drew was never in, and face all the memories--grand and awful--from this month a year ago. I'll especially hold close the peace and hope I felt this Christmas season in 16 days, when we mark one year from the last day we were with our Drew. Maybe my heart can believe it again...it's going to be okay, we will be okay.