As Long as I'm Living, My Baby You'll Be...

Schools been out for almost 2 weeks now. And I've started out keeping fairly close to what I intended to do--make the most of each day. Be grateful. Choose joy. Loosen up my schedules and expectations. Be present with Molly. 

We've already made a visit to Ames while Josh was traveling for work to see family and visit with friends.  And then to Emmetsburg for Father's day weekend.

The three of us visited a local zoo, one we've been meaning to check out and finally decided to go...

And we've made it to the pool too, an activity Molly hopes is a daily thing.

I haven't made it to all my usual Y classes. I haven't been writing as much, on here or otherwise. I haven't texted/messaged/called my friends as often as I usually do (sorry all of you!). Even for Warrior Wagons I feel like I haven't done a whole lot "above and beyond" since Molly's been home.

But it's alright. I have 7 weeks before Molly starts school again at the elementary school in our neighborhood (this school runs on a modified schedule--45 days or 9 weeks on, 15 days or 3 weeks off throughout the year and it begins the last week in July). Which is why I am okay with taking a break from my usual routine. Knowing I'll get my time back soon enough, it's easier to soak up these summer days with my favorite girl.

But guess what doesn't take a break? Grief. The missing. It's another season transition, this time to summer. I've found these weeks as we move into a new season are always hard. And this one brings with it the typical triggers--festive activities and traditions special to this time of year that cause a yearning for the way things used to be.  Summer activities that leave us wishing he was still with us to enjoy this time of year too.

But after the first few days of summer pass, I can tell just how far I've come since last. I'm still carrying this grief, but instead of holding it close to my chest, clutched in my hands, it's more like tucked into a pack on my back. Its still heavy. I'm still very aware of its weight. It causes muscles to get fatigued and sore every now and then. But it also is easier to carry this way. Makes it so much easier to do things and play with Molly.

I can tell how much I've grown, but this year I also can tell how much everyone else has too, specifically, their kids. We see some families and kids during the summer that we don't see other times of the year since Molly's in school now. Familiar faces at school lunch, at the library, at the pool, and teacher friends' kids. Some of these little ones were Drew's peers, his same age.  And he was right there with them.

Last year they reminded me what I was missing--how a two year old boy acts. I saw them all and could almost see Drew right behind them.  It was just so hard to see what Drew could have been, what WE could have been. His memory was still fresh and relevant only 6 months out from his death. The void of his presence, was obvious.

But this summer, they've all grown up so much. They've all changed. Not just in size--but in actions, in abilities. Three to four year olds are so much different than two to three year olds. And I'm struggling to even imagine how Drew would compare--what he'd be saying/doing this summer at four. (four? It's just unbelievable.)

I'm learning what "forever two", a label that's been tossed around, really looks like in reality. What it feels like to have a son who never gets bigger, never develops further. Last year we weren't that far away from where we were. But this year, the gap is beginning to widen. Now, that memory of two year old Drew is aging--or rather, not aging. Frozen in time. Little siblings in families that used to be the babies are now the ones who are "Drew's age", and it makes me wince. My heart has hurt this week in a way that I haven't felt before. A deeper ache. Not so much a sharp, trigger-type pain, but one that seems to be pacing itself.  Because it knows, this is just the beginning....

These first couple weeks of summer I'm afraid I'm just getting a taste of the forever of this life. Sometime in the future all these kids that were "about Drew's age" will not just be four or five year olds, but big kids. Teenagers. And Drew will still be two in our minds. He'll be left behind, a relic of the past. A smile in a picture that will not get bigger like everyone else.  How difficult for a mother's heart to grasp...

This has been another turn in this journey of grief that I've struggled to "figure out". This post I've had a hard time finishing, finding a positive or comforting way to look at it. What can I tell myself that will take the sting out of seeing life go on without a part of my heart?

The best I've been able to do is remind myself that Drew's really not stuck anywhere. He's actually the free one! He's not back in the past, he's moving on from the life he lead almost 18 months ago now too. Drew is in 2018 with us, just in a different realm.

Forever two? Who knows how old he is. It's something Molly and I discuss a lot. And we end each discussion with, I guess we'll find out when we get there! But I can trust that whatever age, he's not left behind, certainly not. Yet, as long as I'm on this side of Heaven, he'll always be my little Drew, who never celebrated his third birthday.  Always my baby boy.

As I've been wrestling with these emotions this week and last, I happened to come across a book that perfectly depicts what's going on in my heart. With Molly working on reading now, we have books all over the house. And one night as my frozen-in-time-son was heavy on my mind, this particular book was right in front of me.

Now I never liked this book. It always made me cry. If' you're unfamiliar, it's about a mother and son. And as he "grew and grew and grew", the mother repeated the same song to him at night after he was asleep--"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"

Until finally it's the grown son's turn to sing it to her as she's old and her life is coming to an end.

Obviously, there's a few reasons why just the sight of this book brought me to tears even before I turned through the pages of the story. It touches on so many of the feelings I've felt in these first weeks of summer.  It reads differently, brings tears from a different place now than when I used to read it and cry before this great loss.  But I knew instantly from the first page why it spoke so strongly to me this week--the words to that little song of the mother's is exactly the song of my heart to my Drew.  And I'll be singing it to him until the day we're together again.

I'll love you forever Drewy, I'll like you for always. As long as I live, my baby you'll be...