Fair Week

It was recently fair week in Austin. With Molly in school, we had to really make the most of our visits. We saw the animals, rode the rides, ate some treats, climbed on the farm equipment, saw a show in the grandstand--it was a busy week!

It was a difficult one too. I've come to expect that at times when we enjoy ourselves the most, we will also tolerate a great deal of sadness too. Gosh, Drew would have loved this. At 4 years old, he would have been at a good age for it all too. The Demo Derby was almost too much, but in my mind I could hear him squealing with every crash!

He only was a part of fair week two times. His first one though, was when he was only months-old and he didn't get much out of it. His last year that he could have gone, he didn't. It was right before the second bone marrow transplant and the doctors advised us to keep him away from the germs that posed a serious infection risk.

So he had one real year of fair...and he really soaked it up! Still able to keep him corralled in a stroller, we got through the animals, he climbed on the farm equipment, and checked out all the exhibits. Memories I am so thankful for.

There were so many young mothers last week at the fair with what looked like a two year old and baby, or a three and one year old. One walking, the other in the stroller, or both in a big double. And I remember being them those two years with Drew. Taking my littles to the fair. I saw the fits being thrown, the begging for treats, the tired but determined faces, and little Molly and Drew came back to life again. The life we had, was seemingly right in front of me.

A mother who had also lost a child wrote in a card I received after Drew's death that a part of her will always be 24--the age she was when she lost her son. This week, I understood those mother's words. I wrote about Drew being "forever two" and how I am beginning to see that. Now I can feel a part of me that is frozen with that little boy too. A mother duck and her two ducklings that won't ever be together again this side of Heaven, is fixed in my memories and my heart.

Behind my big sunglasses, there were tears not only for what was, but also what would have been. Molly voiced several times that she wished she had someone to ride the rides with. She wanted me to go with her, but many I was too big for. We made arrangements to meet up with friends too, but I feel like we both knew what the real problem was. Who was missing.

As I watched her ride the rides alone, despite her smiles and laughing to herself, the thoughts flooded my mind and heart--it shouldn't have been like this. It wasn't suppose to be this way. She had a brother, we did all we could to give that companion to her, but here she is, alone. How incredibly unfair to her, my heart broke in a new place.

I am learning to handle the hurt in my own heart. The pain that comes when I see that young mother with her two littles. But when I see it on the face of my Molly, it hits a different spot. Reminding me of the torment it was to see Drew physically suffer, seeing emotional suffering in my daughter's eyes--even if she doesn't say a word-- is just as hard.

Why does she have to have this yearning? Why couldn't it have worked out, not only for Drew, but for her? It shouldn't have been this way...and I can't do anything for her. I can't "fix" it, like my mother's heart wants to. It's an all too familiar feeling, and it hasn't gotten any easier to handle...I struggled to put on a brave face for her, while inside, I felt like throwing a big fit myself.

I know these all are lies though. That it really wasn't "suppose" to be any way but the way it is. Drew had just as many days as God had planned from the day he was born (Psalm 139:16). I tell my heart that we can't let our self fall into that trap of believing I was robbed, or Molly was either. Like having two kids grow up together was somehow promised me, and then got snatched away. Or like Molly was entitled to a sibling, and that she was ripped off by cancer. No, that's not right, I know it in my head. But my heart, on days when the sorrow threatens to overwhelm, is tempted to buy those untruths.

I understand that this all is making Molly, and us, the people we were always going to be. Already she can tell me she wishes she had someone to go with her on the ferris wheel, yet, five minutes later get on anyway and smile as she goes 'round, occasionally saying something to the other single rider with her. She'll be much more independent, able to be on her own, than I am. She probably already is! And it will serve her well. She'll serve well, because of this.

As I watch this growth in Molly as she's forced to go many things alone in life, more "shouldn't have been's" fill my thoughts. We didn't intend to parent an only child. We imagined how hard that would be for the child, and for us as parents too, and were foolish enough to think we could choose our family size. But we are here. The Becker family, now a single child family physically, despite what we planned.

And it's true that having a singleton is difficult in its own way .  I believe it is just as hard being the parent of an only child as I imagine it is being the parent of several more. And this week at the fair, with an empty seat beside her on the carnival rides, I was feeling the weight of that too. Yes, there was no fighting or arguing.  It didn't take as long to get ready to leave for the fair, or to bath and bed after we got home.  But I'd have taken all that over the missing and the loneliness Molly and I felt in a heartbeat.

So it was a tough week. I am exhausted, physically and also emotionally. I'm not sure why it didn't hit me as hard last year, but I feel like this year--it made up for it.  It was a lot of work to fight these thoughts, to resist the temptation to be resentful and angry. It was tiring to battle the negative and embrace the positive. Choosing joy was hard this week, and I will admit that I didn't always succeed.

Grief is such a difficult state. It's so much more than missing someone. And yet somedays, that is "all" it is too. After over a year and half now there are still new angles, new ways this great loss manifests itself as we move through this life.  I am so grateful for the support, the Helpers, God has placed in my life to carry me through the hard days. Thank you to all of you who listen and encourage me. Thank you to those of you who let me know that someone cares, and our hurt hasn't been forgotten about. I have faith that with God and all of you, we'll continue to make it, one day at a time. Row by row ❤