1,024 Days

There was a day in early November, when more time had passed since Drew's death, then the amount of time he was alive. I've been anticipating the day since I realized early on in my grief how relatively soon it would come. His life was so short, and we have so much left of our own.  Our time with Drew would eventually be a small percentage of our family's life as a whole, and it broke my heart.

Drew lived for 1,024 days. From April 1st, 2014, when he took his first breath, the sand in the hourglass of his life started to fall, the countdown had begun, until the day he'd take his last breath on January 19th, 2017.

Not quite three years doesn't seem like a short time necessarily, until it's all you have. He went from a helpless baby who smiled too much I thought (as it interrupted nursing and napping), to a little two year old boy that endured more than many of us even could grasp, with the same sweet smile on his face.

Looking back through photos and selecting these, I wonder how I've possibly gone over 1000 days without seeing that beautiful smile, and those captivating eyes. On the other hand, maybe 1,024 days doesn't seem like a particularly long amount of time, until its how long you've gone without seeing one of your children.

1,024 days is now a lifetime to us.  The most precious days of our lives, the short chapter of our story which included our Drew.


Thinking about the day we'd pass this mark used to fill me with sadness when I'd think about it. I dreading the day, the process of getting further away from my time with Drew, it almost made me feel sick. Many of you who have followed along since his death know, I spent a lot of time writing, crying, and feeling in that first period of time after our great loss.

But you know what?  That week, that day in November passed without the flood of emotion I had anticipated early on in my grief.  In the past, my heart would have demanded to be heard. It wouldn't have rested until I had spent significant time and emotional energy acknowledging the turning point, the transition of time. But as it was, where I am today, that week a quiet cry in my big chair, next to the shelf where what's left of my baby now rests, is all my heart needed. And it somewhat surprised me.

But thinking about it since, I've realized it's not that my heart doesn't care anymore, or that it's completely healed. No, of course not. I think its more that as our family moves forward, we acknowledge our loss, we remember our Drew, in different ways now. It doesn't have to be a time consuming, emotional, intentional task of re-mourning Drew when anniversaries or turning points come, but it has become a more functional grieving, action-based acknowledgement of him through our lives.

And our lives seem to be full of action right now! I feel like when I have carved out time to write this year, I frequently talk about how busy we are.  Which is true!  But what I'm realizing is that the things that fill each day aren't things that distract us from our grief, but things that just express our love for Drew and the influence of him in our lives in a new way.


Like at my new job. I'm now working at the same school everyday over lunch/recess time--which keeps me on the go, and really makes me be deliberate with my time.  Taking a step back, I can see that I bring Drew and the 1,024 days we had together with me in how I talk to and care for the students.  Because of Drew I'm more patient, compassionate, and confident in my judgment. I see myself acknowledging him with my actions and attitude at school. when I stop to think about it.  And those little boys at my school that I now know by name and who hug me when they come in, do more for this Mama's forever broken heart than they will ever know ❤


I've been very active with Warrior Wagon things this year too, which is a blessing.  Now between the 3 hospitals, we have a lot to do each week! The program is really picking up steam and awareness here in the Chicago area since the fall, and I've felt it in my everyday life. There was a 5K that raised money for our Warriors, donations being made and needing picked up, and through my lunchroom job, God opened some doors to speak in a 5th grade classroom. I shared our family's story and what we do through Warrior Wagons to serve families like ours. And it brought me so much joy.

Molly's school is holding an item drive to fill our Warrior Wagons during this month, December.  I've been fitting more classroom talks at the school into my days before or after work, again telling students our story and how it lead to Warrior Wagons.

It's meant so much to get out there and share our story again.  To put on my Warrior Wagon gear and, with Drew's picture behind me, tell about how our family made it through treatment and the last 1,024 days without our Drew by serving others. Once again proving to me that instead of being overcome by emotion so often, we seem to be overcoming the emotional stage of grief. Instead, acknowledging our loss and it's influence in our lives through our actions, especially through our work with Warrior Wagons.

Each time we bring a Warrior Wagon to Downtown Chicago (as we did again recently) and meet a new family that we never would have met if it wasn't for Drew's life, we remember and honor him. And it's just as satisfying as a good cry ever was.

We are right in the heart of the Christmas season, and we've been busy lately preparing for the holiday in between work/school, Warrior Wagons business, and regular life tasks. I've said for several years now, Christmas was a lot more fun when I wasn't the Mom and had to get everything done! But Molly's been such a good help this year. I'm trusting her with more and more tasks, and she's eager to be involved.

In the last 1,024 days we've celebrated two Christmases without our Drew.  And during each of those Christmas seasons the grief and longing to be with both of my babies has brought me to my knees. So far this year though,  I've been making my way through without a wave of grief knocking me down.

 Although tears have slowly trickled down my cheeks some afternoons as I prep dinner, alone, listening to Christmas music.  My heart has ached as I Christmas shop for my little girl, and pass by all the little boy toys, wishing I had my little boy to shop for. Wondering what he'd even be into now, as the five and half year old he would be.

 And as I dress for Molly's school Christmas program, with my door shut, I let some tears go, but tried not to mess up my makeup before we headed out, wishing that I'd have gotten the chance to see Drew up on stage.

I know that it's in all these quiet moments, I'm acknowledging our loss, grieving for the son that I had but God has taken back, and it's okay that it's not a huge emotional ordeal.  It doesn't mean that I love him any less, or don't miss him as much. My heart is able to, here and there, let out some of the pain it has learned to carry each of the last 1,024 days.

God has been with me each of those days, just as He was with us each of the 1,024 days of Drew's life, and the ones before it. His strength, wisdom and love has been what has carried us, what people see in us, and what will be with us as we live the next 1,024 days, and the next, and the next.  Until the day comes that He bring us Home too.

That's what He's reminded me in those quiet moments when I grieve this Christmas. The reason we celebrate this December isn't just in thanksgiving of our many blessings, or in the fellowship with those we love, but the HOPE that was born 2,000 years ago.  The reason we shouldn't count the days that have passed since Drew died, but instead count them as days less we have to wait until we see him again.



What have you done in the last 1,024 days? What will you do in the next? Less then 3 years is enough time to make an impact on the world, I've seen it in person. Who's life are you influencing for the better? How will you make the world a better place for others, not just yourself? Something to think about, something that challenges me in my life.  How many of Drew's lifetimes will fit into mine, and how will I use each one with matched intensity to his?  My Drew set the bar pretty high!

And maybe in each one I won't be able to keep his pace.  But I'll try as hard as I can, and at least keep the smile, have the joy, that he had in each of his 1,024 days.

There may be times we break down still this season.  This third Christmas without our Drew may prove too much for just a quiet cry.  Seeing my family of three doing Christmas together, wishing we were that family of four again, will bring sadness right along with the joy.  But we'll balance the two as best we can.  Not allowing the sadness to cancel out the joy, yet not denying the sorrow we feel either.  A delicate balance I've been practicing in the last 1,024 days.


So there we have it. Yes, we've been busy this year.  2019 was not a quiet, low-key year by any means. It had less tears, not as much writing, but more doing.  Which just means our grief is shifting, not necessarily lessening. We've made it through the turning point of having as much life after Drew's than with it.  And that's okay, we're just one lifetime closer to being together again.


Merry Christmas everyone.  May peace and Hope be as much a part of your Christmas as all the other emotions we experience during this season.  Much love, from the Becker family to yours!

As We Remember Him

Its funny how often we tell ourselves things will slow down "when..." When baseball season is over, once the kids get a little older, after the holidays are through.  But sometimes, it just doesn't slow down, the business only shifts. Changes direction, but still has you going from one thing to the next. This year has gone that way for us. I thought once our over-booked summer was over, things would settle down.  But they really haven't.

September turned out to be a busy month. In addition to settling into school and visiting my Aunt in upstate Michigan, we also held our month-long Warrior Wagons funding drive. Since our operation is spread over 2 states now, this year we thought outside the box.  We decided to try a remote fundraiser of sorts, more of a funding drive than a specific fundraiser. We asked our community to "Pull Together for Warrior Wagons" and team up with friends, family members, a business they own, or their work group to make a collective donation to Warrior Wagons that would help fund as many Warrior Wagons as we could.

Honestly, we weren't sure what to expect with this concept.  Would people be willing to take the extra step of coordinating a group contribution instead of coming to an event?  Well, the answer was a resounding "yes". And then God brought forward a group who was willing to put on an actual event in Rochester for anyone who still wanted that experience too!

September 28th we traveled back to Minnesota for the event that the Rochester Group of Thrivent Financial hosted, and to also attend a separate fundraiser one of our Warrior families was hosting, selflessly giving the proceeds to a handful of charities serving the local childhood cancer community, which included ours.

It was such a great day, without anything to do with dollars raised.  To have our whole Warrior Wagon team together, from all three of our branches was so great!  And to meet and spend some time with Warrior families, to chat with fellow cancer moms that I'd exchanged messages on Facebook with, but never met in person was worth the whole trip. There's a special bond among other cancer families. You feel an instant connection with people who have been through the same horrors you have. It's been a long time since I've felt that sense of belonging, and it was heartwarming.

Our Pulling Together campaign did just what we'd hoped it would: Unite people in the name of doing good. Get new people talking about Warrior Wagons and what we're doing.  And yes, bring in funding for more Warrior Wagons!  As we continued to receive donations in the first week in October, and tallies from events were finalized, we were amazing at our grand total. Just over $21,000! Wow. Amazing.  Enough funds for over 80 Warriors to receive a Warrior Wagon. God continues to provide for this project.



Even in the midst of the all of that, I somehow felt a nudge to explore what more I could personally do right here in our new community, and began to look into jobs at Molly's school.  I was about to start subbing in Austin before we moved, and I decided maybe I'd start there and see what part-time jobs might be available that would work with our family's schedule.  Lunchroom Supervisor came up.  It seemed like a perfect fit--only 2.75 hours a day from about 11-2, supervising lunch and recess.  I'd still have a little time before and after to get my work done at home and with Warrior Wagons and be home to get Molly on the bus and there when she got off.

Everything came together quickly, and I've been subbing for this position district-wide a few days a week since mid September. So far, I'm really enjoying it!

The time goes really fast, opening ketchup packets and milk cartons isn't so bad, and the students overall have been so delightful. Kids really do say the darndest things! I need to keep a notebook in my car, to write down funny quotes and interesting stories when I leave the schools. It seems each day there's something noteworthy that happened or was said.

Like one of the first days.  I was standing in the lunchroom, looking around at the kids.  Thinking, look at me, I'm doing this!  I was a little nervous about how I'd feel in a room full of kids, especially kindergarten--the age Drew would be.  I'm not feeling upset at all, I thought to myself.  But then I did start thinking about Drew, how big he'd be, what he'd be doing in a lunchroom-- would he be like that boy that can hardly sit still?  Or that one over there, sitting quietly eating his lunch.  That ache in my heart starting up again...But, I thought, I can still to do this!  Maybe it's okay to think about him, and feel a little sad, but still enjoy this job too.  It's like my motto in life, right?

Just as I was having this internal discussion, a little girl's hand shot up.  Shaking my head a little to snap out of it, I came over to her.  "Can you read this note to me?" she asked. I looked down at her note from Mom and it said, "Don't let anyone take away your shine!"  Wow, goosebumps.  For those of you who have been following this page, you know that's almost exactly the phrase a kind nurse said to Drew, and then to me, in one of our last visits to surgery.  I closed a commencement speech with that line the spring after Drew died. (speech can be found HERE)

What a perfectly timed, meaningful note.  A note from this girl's mother to her daughter, but it seemed to also be from my Father to His needing-reassurance daughter. Maybe from a heavenly son to his feeling-shaky mother? Someday I may find out...I fought tears as I continued on to more hands in the air asking me to open string cheeses and to be excused to the bathroom.  But I had a renewed confidence.  God and our loved ones really are with us, in the everyday places like elementary lunchrooms, and right within our thoughts...



So that brings us to the middle of October.  How is that possible? In addition to me starting this new job, Molly's started swimming again two nights a week at Stroke School.  She loves it!  But it adds one more thing to our week. As a family we still really enjoy our quiet evenings, but we're managing just one after school activity ;)

Yes, fall is in full swing, and with it, emotions have run high at times. The season itself is a difficult one for us (I've wrote about this season in years past, click HERE or THERE). But this fall is even more significant. This would have been the fall that Drew would have started school, and I still haven't taken the time to write about that.  Today's the day I guess!

I made it through Molly starting school in August without too big of a wave of grief crashing in.  Drew was never here, so somehow him not getting on the bus with Molly didn't have as much of a sting as I thought it would.

But when all of the kids in Austin went back to school the day after labor day, that was the day the wave crashed in. These were the kids I thought would be Drew's classmates. The school and classrooms I had pictured him attending, before I knew he'd never make it there. The Facebook Timehop photos of Molly getting on the kindergarten bus that same day was a cruel reminder of what could have been. My heart wishing I would have gotten the chance to see Drew do the same...

As I picked up my phone that day to swipe through the finite images I have of my boy, I came across this one of him in his backpack---not filled with crayons and notebooks, but a feeding pump and bag of formula. It was the day we went home after our initial 28 day hospital stay. Kind of the "first day" of the rest of his life.  The last of his life.  Look at how happy he looks...amazing in an of itself after what he'd already been through:

And not too far from Molly's look on her first day.  No, I didn't get to see my Drew start school.  He didn't get to ride on a school bus and wave to me out the window, but he got to ride in push cars with his IV pole beside him down the halls of St. Mary's, waving and blowing kisses to his favorite nurses.

He didn't get to finger paint with his friends, but with his child life specialist friends.

He may not have programs, or performances where I'd get see him up on stage and have that #ProudMom moment, but I remember feeling so deeply proud of my son many, many times in his last year.  As he laid perfectly still for CT scans.

As I watched him so gently, so compassionately, play with other kids in the hospital play room.  As he cooperated with nurses as they cleaned him up after getting sick all over himself, or changed his dressing, and he'd said thank you to them. And of course as he labored through too many tough days during treatment.

My baby may never have went to school the way other kids get to.  But he certainly got an education in real life. In medical procedures and medications.  In the meaning of persevering and enduring.

And he taught US even more.  About real life and persevering and enduring.  But also about living in the moment, choosing joy, and making the most of each day.  Lessons that will last a lifetime.

The season is really changing. Outside as the leaves are turning, and the crisp air has made its way here. Inside Becker house, the season is changing too. Next month we'll have gone as long without Drew as we had him with us. Molly is getting so big and independent, we really are entering a new stage of parenting with her. Add in me starting to work outside the home again, and we are definitely in new territory.

I'm getting further along on my grief journey as well, entering a new season there perhaps. Maybe in this stage I don't require as much contemplation and going over things in my mind, as notice I'm not taking the time to write nearly as often. Maybe I'm strong enough to go out and DO again, after I've already taken time to reflect and make as much peace in my heart as there can be. 

But even though the frequency of times I take a break, examine my heart and sort things out, I'm so thankful that when I do, I have such a supportive and encouraging community behind me here--old and new members :)

Seasons changing are always hard for me. But Drew is a part of it all. I can feel him, somehow, some way.

A poem I came across in a grief book I picked up recently perfectly summed up so much in our lives and hearts over the last 6 months:

"At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.
For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them. "

We remember Drew.

In each ordinary day, and in each season, we remember Drew.

In the happy moments, and in the missed moments, we bring him in and he is with us, as we remember Drew.

As we achieve so much in his name, because DREW achieved so much, we remember him.

As we figure out life in this new season, Drew is with us, as we remember him.

You are a part of us, as long as we live, as we remember you, our Drew❤

Catching Up...

Well, I knew it would be a whirl wind of a summer--and it was. We had so much fun and made some memories that will last a lifetime. It went so fast--Molly had her first full week of school last week! And in the evening this weekend, we needed our long sleeves as we sat out on our patio!

But let me start at the beginning...

First this summer, Molly and I took our Friendship Tour!  We started off traveling to New Orleans to see the Knoll family.

...and then we moved on to Texas and stayed with the Gudgels for a few days!

We ended up added a third leg to the tour a month later when we stayed in Austin for a few days to spend some time in our hometown that's so special to us, and see our many friends there.

We had a half birthday party for Molly in June, and went to Corn Carnival in Iowa.

We then were a part of my brother's wedding in Missouri over the 4th of July weekend. It was a wonderful time with family celebrating my brother and his new wife.

We managed to venture out some in Chicago too--seeing the city from new heights after Warrior Wagon drop offs, and visiting the shore of Lake Michigan for a beach day.

We did have a *few* slow days at home. We hit the aquatic park all together, found new parks to play at, and had smores over our firepit in the back yard.

We had a summer bucket list that we did a pretty good job of working through. It was one heck of a summer that I'm glad we were able to do, but next summer I think I won't schedule quite as much. We are exhausted!

In the middle and in between all of this, there were moments that took my breath away. Moments that brought tears to my eyes. And moments that broke my heart all over again. I had dueling emotions, joy and sorrow, pain and happiness, all at once quite often. Each emotion very big and very genuine, which can be a lot to carry. I'm learning to expect it, figuring out the balance so both can be acknowledged, yet not overpower the other.

As I get back to work around here--getting the housework, lawn work, and Warrior Wagons work all caught up, I'm realizing I have some catch-up to do on my feelings too. Some of these moments I still need to work through before I can begin to sort out the moments coming up--what would have been Drew's first day of Kindergarten, the one year mark of us being in Chicago and the day when it becomes longer that Drew's been gone then when he was here with us. So this second week that Molly's back in school, I'll take the chance to do just that, catch up on my grief work too.



One moment that triggered a wave of grief for me came as I looked over at Molly on the airplane back in June. I looked over and saw my little girl again. As we traveled together, she actual was quite helpful. Independent. And really, most days now she seems so grown up. Yet, every now and then, I still see my little girl. Who still loves her blanket and is scared of flies. Who even though she's showering by herself and getting all ready for bed, still wants us to do the full routine to tuck her in. And that afternoon she had found her own seat on the airplane and selected and started up her cartoons all by herself, but still sat and held her lovie while she watched them...

Its bittersweet to watch her grow up right before my eyes. I got to know her so much this summer, as we spent genuine quality time experiencing life in different places and families, and also visiting old places and families--our home from another chapter. We had conversations this summer about so many important things. I was so thankful to be with her to have them--and surprised how much I learned from them too. It shouldn't surprise anyone that talking things out is how I work through things, and my Molly and I worked through a lot this summer together.

But it made my heart hurt. Not only to realize the days of getting a glimpse of my little girl are numbered, but gosh, I wish I had gotten the chance to know Drew like this. To travel with him. To see his strengths develop, to watch him transition from a little boy to a big boy as I'm seeing in Molly.

Why didn't I get the chance to do with him what I'm doing with her? Why couldn't I have gotten to know my son the way I feel like I know my daughter??

And then a still small voice whispers to my heart, "You will. Someday, you will..."

But that morning after Molly and I got back from our trip, even after that reassurance, I still sat in my big chair next to his urn which holds all I have left of my baby boy, with his blanket in my arms, and cried for what could have been in this lifetime...



We celebrated with one of the first Warriors to get a Warrior Wagon successfully complete their treatment this summer. As I scrolled through their photos and watched the video of this wonderful little girl ringing the "End of Treatment" Bell, I was taken back by the difficult emotions that came bubbling up in my heart.

We've been broken as we watched the lives of some of our first Warriors end, and I thought that was hard. But there was something different, a new kind of pain that I felt, as we got to see one make it through. Get the party, ring the bell, and "beat" their cancer. I wrestled with feeling so, SO happy for that little girl and her family, and at the same time, wishing it could have been us too. That we had gotten to share the smiling, triumphant post at the end of our journey instead of the ones I did share...

Just as my head was trying to talk sense into my heart, the same tough questions soaked in these difficult emotions came from my daughter's lips. And my head had to not only try to talk sense into my own heart, but into hers as well.

But it was a good discussion--honest and tear-filled. I listened to what I spoke out loud as if it wasn't me explaining. Sometimes that happens, I hear my words, but feel the Spirit really is the one doing the talking. And that morning, He spoke to both of our hearts about how this world is broken, life isn't fair. Not everyone gets a happy ending this side of Heaven, and only God knows why. But there will be a happy ending. God did heal Drew too, we just haven't gotten to be a part of the party yet. But someday...someday we will. And we can't wait for our turn to celebrate😊

We will have attended three weddings this summer after this weekend. And at each, the love, enthusiasm, and hope of the new couple was shinning to all. It was cute, and warmed the heart. It was so nice to see these people that are so special to me filled with joy and "home" with their new partner for life.

During these ceremonies, watching them vow to one another that they would be there for each other for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, really touched me. The words stung as they repeated them because I know all too well, that those worse times, sickness times DO come. In ways you never saw coming. And they shake you down to your core. Test your faith not only in each other, but in everything you once thought to be true. And in those times, it doesn't feel as magical as the "Big Day" felt. All you have to cling to is God, and the love, hope and enthusiasm you started with.

I hate that this sounds syndical. I don't want to be jaded by this world and what's happened to us. But it has changed us profoundly, and how we see life now. And being a witness to all these new couples beginning their journey together this summer made me think about myself back then. Especially on our anniversary. I thought back to that young 22 year old blushing bride I was and thought, if she only knew what she'd face as she happily repeated those vows...

But you know? I'm glad I didn't. And I'm glad that whatever these new couples may face is hidden from them too. Because you have to start off so full of love and hope and enthusiasm or you'd never make it. And it's good for the rest of us to witness it.

After 11 years, Josh and I have been taught a lot about life and death, love and commitment, and we still have so much to learn! It was good to hear those newlywed sermons, and think about the times when life seemed simpler. To be reminded of that young women, full of love and hope and enthusiasm for her new role as wife and to bring some of that back up to the surface again.

Each of these and a handful more I could have sat and wrote a whole blog about. But I only had 20 minutes before Molly woke up.  Or needed to get this and that done before we left again.  Or got distracted and never came back to it.

Which isn't so bad, right? I wrote in my journal, I talked with a friend.  I prayed about it, gave it to God, and went on with the day.  Continued to LIVE, while enduring the shots from grief. Something I promised my boy I would do as I watched his life end.

Putting this one together though, I miss it.  It helps me so much to get it out, piece it together, add in the photos--the memories--and get it all worked out in my head.  And as usual, if through my process even one person struggling with loss or disappointment, or questioning their faith can gain something from our experience, I'll keep writing.  Because I have a lot of things coming up to write about! So fair warning..