What I've learned...

As the first anniversary of Drew's passing passed, I took time to remember. The week, the day. To remember him and all that died that day, January 19th, 2017. And although it wasn't pleasant, it didn't feel good, I'm glad I did. It felt right to pause, and to go "back there". To hold his blanket and light a candle at the hour he was born into Eternity in remembrance, in honor, of the life that he lived, the sparkle that was Drew in this lifetime.

Since then, my "one year ago" reminders on Facebook don't included his smiling face anymore, but our new family of three.  My "two years ago" reminders are filled with shock and well wishes as we were just beginning our journey. It's really weird that it was almost exactly a year from our trip to the ER that Wednesday afternoon not knowing what was wrong, to watching his life quietly fade away. And actually, it kind of helps to see those posts. To see Drew so sick around diagnosis time right next to the ones where I know he's free--finished with that awful beast.

It feels in a way like we've come full circle. After remembering the event of his death the last couple weeks, I can now reflect on the year since, and how far we've come. Many of you who have gone with me this last year either through this blog or in person, know I've realized and discovered a lot. It seems appropriate to reflect on that as well, to take stock of how we did our first year without Drew.

A year ago, when I was just at the beginning of this grief, everyone told me there were no rules, do what feels right to you. And I don't think that was necessarily bad advice, but I needed more. I am a very structured, rule-oriented person, I like that security. So I started making some rules of my own as I moved forward.

Some were physical boundaries: I decided first I didn't want to form any habits from the beginning I didn't intend to keep in the long run. I realized I certainly could justify whatever I wanted to do, but I knew I didn't want to let myself engage in destructive behavior, even for a little while, because it'd be so hard to break free. And I think I've kept to that well. I didn't let personal hygiene slip, didn't overeat, or start drinking every night. It seems dumb to have to set those boundaries for yourself, but at the beginning, when it hurts so bad, you are very tempted to do whatever it takes to make it feel better. And forgo anything that seems pointless in light of your loss.

On the flip side, I also wanted to keep in place some good habits I already had. Like getting enough sleep. I need to sleep to handle myself--I'm kind obsessed with getting a full 8 hours (okay, maybe more like 9...), and I wanted to keep that habit so I could remain stable. I decided for me that meant keeping away from things that are upsetting too close to bedtime. So I tried not to look at photos/watch videos of Drew, write my heart out (and simultaneously cry my eyes out), or let my mind go to those dark places right before bed or as I was laying in bed. I told myself I could think about/be sad about/figure out my feelings the next day. And for the most part, I've been able to do that, and I continue to be careful about this. I think that has helped more than I know--to be rested. I'm so thankful I haven't experienced much insomnia/nightmares that disturb my natural rhythm as some grievers do.

Then emotionally, I decided I couldn't hold myself to anyone else's standards or expectations in my grief. We are who we are, and in some ways who we've always been. If we weren't the touchy-feely types before, I shouldn't wonder why we aren't holding each other and crying together like some couples/families who go through this kind of thing do. We have never done that, and I shouldn't feel bad or guilty that we aren't now. Once I gave myself permission to be myself, do things my way, I felt so much better about how I cope. And I reminded myself that this is true for each member of my family too. Josh and Molly both have their own ways of dealing with things, and do a pretty good job with it, so I can't hold them to my way of grieving either.

As I moved forward in those first few weeks and months, I figured out new things to add to my list of personal guidelines for my grief. Like consciously trying to remain present--especially with Molly. At one kids group in February last year, I caught myself daydreaming about what Drew would be doing in the class, and totally missing what Molly was actually doing. That really scared me. I don't want to lose both my baby's childhoods because of this! One I couldn't do anything about anymore, but watching Molly grow up was mine to lose if I couldn't stop being distracted by Drew's absence. So staying present went on my list, not missing special moments I'll never get back...

I also figured out as we went along that it helped to set up new routines--try different events/adventures, even if I wasn't sure I wanted to. We started going to the Y. We go up to the cities more often. We got season tickets in the fall to the ISU football games. We are about to go on a big vacation with my family to Hawaii. It gives you a break sometimes, to go to a different space Drew never was, or to do things that we never did with Drew. So much in this town, in our lives, have memories with Drew but some days it's nice to have some that don't.

I learned in the last year that helping others sometimes is the best way to help yourself. That when you put yourself out there in service, two things happen--you realize the needs/situations of others, not just your own; and you recognize that there is still something in you that you have to offer. You are still valuable and useful, even in your broken state. Which gives you a sense of purpose again, of power. Not to mention the good "feels" of helping someone who needs it. We all should do more helping of others, in big ways or little ways--they are all important. How much better off would the world be?

I've found out for myself in the last year just how hard it is for the bereaved to allow ourselves to be happy again. To decide it's okay to laugh, to play and to love after our loss. Somehow you feel like you are betraying them, that you must not have really loved them if you can actually be happy without them. Some people even perpetuate this lie with nice-sounding phrases like, "the amount of grief one feels is directly proportional to the amount one loved." And while I think there is truth to that statement, I think it easily can put us grievers in a corner. Because many think of grief as overwhelming sorrow and sadness, tears and gloom--not inspired, hopeful and experiencing joy despite our loss. And if we somehow are feeling the former, we're afraid our lack of despair is a reflection of the depth of love for the one we've lost.

But the truth is, as different as we all are is as different as all of our grief is. We Becker's have our own way of expressing our grief and showing our love for Drew (although as you have seen if you follow this blog---I do my share of lamenting and crying). Overall, we are more "doers" than "dreamers". Our grief has come out as beginning new things, building from this. And if you measure how much Drew was loved using what we've done in the last year as a measuring stick, I think you'd determine we loved him greatly indeed. You don't have to be a sobbing mess everyday to prove you loved, and that doesn't mean you don't remember or care.

And really, I'm more and more convinced that limiting yourself to the sadness of grief, the yearning for what was, only makes you miss out on what is and could be. It's what happened that morning at the kids group last spring, when I couldn't have told you where Molly placed the heart on herself during the silly children's song, because I was too busy imagining where Drew would have placed his. This is biblical guys, remember?  Isaiah 43:18-19 "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" I'm so glad that God spoke this to us, and the Spirit has helped me see it, because it's so true. And Drew can very much be a part of my life now, but only if I'm present enough, if I'm not so focused on the past, to see it.

And as I got through more of that first year, I began to see it. I've recognized not only his influence in me and the ways his life continues to impact this world, but recognized a new relationship with him. I "sit with him" each morning when I have some quiet time in his room before everyone wakes up. I talk to him when I'm driving around town in my van, or at home by myself (to be fair, I talk to Snickers, the cat, a lot too!) and it takes him with me, brings him back into my daily life. Maybe I won't do it forever, but right now, its what my new relationship looks like with my only son. And in the last year I have had reassurance that its not just a one sided relationship. I've felt him in such special moments, and have had things happen or saw things that showed me he continues to live on, which helps me know I ought to also.

 

Remember the two scales I talked about a while ago? A concept I got from a grief book. The idea is that there are two scales from 1-10 in grief, the first is a scale of your emotions, how big they feel today. And the other for how well you can handle them. The goal isn't to tame the first so you never feel anything, but to adjust your second scale to match. And I like that. I don't want the "sad" to ever completely go away, do I? I don't think it will, even if I did want it to. I think I just need to do what I've learned this year, to accept and expect there will always be a little sadness along with the happy moments of my life from here on out. So the key will be to figure out how best to cope. What does today's feelings call for? A long run to clear my head? A happy hour with friends to lighten my mood? Or some time alone, where I cry or pray... the better I am at knowing what I need to do, the better off I'll be. Not "the less I am reminded, the fewer times I'm sad or upset" the better I'll be...

I'll probably always be adding to my "list of rules" for grieving and be learning or experiencing new things along my journey. Because I know now it's not really a journey with a destination of "over it". But a journey for the rest of my life. Until the day we all are waiting for when God makes everything right, and eliminates all the sorrow, tears and pain. I think what I've really been doing this last year is figuring out how I'm going to be now, what it will look like for Heidi Becker to move forward through this life, one precious child down. And luckily, I don't have to do it alone.

That's the good news in all this. All that I've learned on my own is good and useful, but I will never be able to do it all. To "handle it well" if I try to on my own. And God has shown me the rest, the peace, the hope, and joy He has to offer if we just take it from Him. If we give up trying to figure it out, stop wearing ourselves out trying to carry the burden of grief alone, we will truly experience the freedom and peace that only He can give--even in the worst circumstances.

Looking back, its been quite a year, and we've done fairly well. If I can boast in anything it'll be in the Lord--how well HE'S gotten us through this first year. All that HE'S taught us and done through us. Paul's words truly have played out this year in my life when he said in 2nd Corinthians 12:9, "So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me..". Watching my brave Drew take his last breaths after we tried SO hard to save him left me feeling so very weak, in every way. And it was in that weakness that Christ's power has shown through in the words He's given me to write, in the projects we've started that are taking off, and in the joy we have found despite our grief. All glory be to God.