Not Forgotten

January 19th, 2017.  The day my Drew, died. 

In the last four years, some of the details of that day have faded.  I couldn't tell you the exact time things happened, but I will never forget the moment when his hand in mine, stopped feeling alive. I don't know exactly what the stats were on his vitals machine, but I can describe to you how slowly they were dropping that morning, before they quickly fell to nothing around noon. What his exact last words were the day before I'm not sure, but I will never forget the things he was seeing and telling me about that day. I'm not totally sure what I said to him last, but I know the last song I sang to him, one I'd sang so many times before as he went to sleep, but this time, he wasn't ever going to wake up.

One of the things bereaved parents fear the most is that their child will be forgotten.  Not only by others, but by ourselves. 

In the first few weeks and months you remember your loved one so clearly, they could be right in front of you, or wrapped in your arms, but they aren't, and never will be again. It is agonizing. 

Then as time passes, the sharp memories that haunted you begin to dull. And seemingly all of sudden, you can't remember as clearly as you once did. And it fills you with panic, guilt, and shame that you haven't managed to hold on to every detail of your loved one. See, when someone close to you dies, you promise yourself you'll never forget.  You try to memorize everything you can and lock it away, keep them safe in your heart. And for a time, it works. Your heart and your head work together to preserve every detail. 

At some point though, a shift comes.  Your mind can't keep all the details straight. Reason begins to take over, and you know it's impossible to keep your person perfectly preserved and you begin to wonder if you even should. You feel yourself moving forward, and its a good feeling, actually. You understand that your person isn't stuck in the fading memories, but has moved forward as well. But, as always, the heart lags behind. And feels betrayed by the letting go, and shatters all over again...

This seems to be where I'm at, four years later. 

It kills me that I don't remember every scar on my own son's precious little body. 

 

I feel awful that I can't recall how the different shades of blue blended together in his eyes, or how different they looked each day.

I wish I could close my eyes and see the shape of his little fingers and toes, which I sore I knew by heart.

I hate that I have to watch videos to hear his voice, because it's not in my head anymore. 

I pick up his blanket and still try to smell him, not really knowing anymore what it's suppose to smell like. 

How have I forgotten the details of my own son?  Only four years, that's all it takes to forget the particulars of my Drew? I should have tried harder to guard the memories. I should have taken more photos, had the molds made of his hands and feet, done all the things to document the details, my heart cries.

Oh baby boy, please believe me that I love you as much as I did four years ago, even if I can't remember every detail about you anymore. I'm sorry I haven't kept my promise of not forgetting a single aspect of you...

As I sit here and weep about what I've forgotten, my head comforts my heart by reminding it of what I do remember, and that I know I'll never forget.  No, I may not know just what shades of blue make up the color of his eyes. But the brightness, the sparkle in them, still lights up my mind and makes me smile.  

 

Where the scars are on his precious body and the shape of his fingers and toes doesn't matter anymore, he's done with that body! He's got a new one that is sewn in glory, totally healed, and clothed in righteousness. I can't wait to see it. 

His voice, how he spoke when he was alive, isn't of consequence anymore, because I have come to know how he speaks to me now.  I can recognize his presence, the feeling I'm filled with when I know he's with us. And it is so loving and comforting.

And even if I don't know exactly what I'm smelling for when I bring all the things that were once his to my nose, I have faith that when I find it again, I'll know it immediately. Even if its not until he's right in front of me, I know that it'll be as familiar as it was on this day, four years ago.

Just like my memory of January 19th, 2017, I'm not completely sure of the details, but I remember what's important about my Drew. I know that its impossible to forget him because he is a part of me, and always will be. 

And if I think about it, I know I don't have to be afraid that others are forgetting him either, because he is a part of all of them, too, in small and big ways. He is known by people still, even though he's not here anymore. People were changed by what happened to him, to our family.

Yes, four years have passed since my Drew has. More time than he was alive. There may still be some nurses that cared for Drew at St Mary's, in Rochester, Minnesota, but fewer and fewer each year. Several of the oncology department staff have changed, along with support staff, the surgery team, anesthesiology, ect. There may be more who know of Drew than actually knew Drew. But because they see the little red wagons, given out in his name, they understand a little about this one short life that is continuing to bring joy to others.

Of our friends, there are still many close to us that actually did spend time with Drew, and remember our family when we had four living members.  But with time and with each move, we've made new friends that are only familiar with his pictures. They know how I've described him, but never had the pleasure of being charmed by him.  Yet, I hope they feel our family's enthusiasm for life, our compassion for others, and get a sense of what our son Drew was like.

Those who have received a Warrior Wagon in the last four years, who find themselves in the position that we found ourselves in 2016, may read the letter included in their wagon and see our family's picture.  They learn of our own journey, and even though they weren't one of the families going through treatment with us that year, we pray they gain encouragement and hope from Drew's strength and resilience. 

And I hope that for those of you who have followed our story, read along here with me as we've made our way forward following his death, have acquired a new perspective, drawn from the example of our Drew some lessons about how to really live your life, despite your circumstances, as I have. 

As time continues to march on, I know that this will be how it goes. That the details in the memories will fade, but the important things will not. That fewer people will have known him, but instead know about him. But it is in what he left behind, in his legacy, that he will still be a part of our lives and others', not to ever be forgotten. We'll continue to see the ripples from his life, the impact of Drew Becker on this world, if we are looking for it.  He's still very much in the present with us, even though his life is in the past. 

I've been thinking a lot about legacy lately--what we leave behind after our life to others. The longer I live, the more I see how very much we all are connected.  How our words, actions, and the manner in which we live our lives have an affect on and change things for others.  Our life matters, and what we do with it is important. We all have the opportunity to have a positive impact, to leave a legacy that is a blessing to others. I now know how simple it really is, because I watched a little boy, who wasn't even trying, live a life that continues to change others' lives--long after he's been gone.

In the last year, my family grew with the edition of my brother and his wife's first child. A new grandson, my first nephew. When I finally got to meet him, it was such a special moment. I'd heard so much about him, we'd waited anxiously for his arrival, and here he was. The smile he gave me when we first met just melted my heart!  Molly was very excited to meet "Brian's Baby" too, her only first cousin!

 

His name, Jameson Drew. 

They told us over the summer their plan for his name, and asked for our blessing.  Jameson being a variation of the family name James (my dad's name) with Drew for his middle name. We of course said yes, and were very touched they wanted to have Drew be a part of their son's name. 

This Christmas, I made ornaments for my mom and dad. Their tree already has ornaments with mine and my sibilngs' name on them, as well as Josh's.  But we needed to catch up with the next generation and the latest in-law! 

Once I got the letters placed for the names, the similarity between my late son's name and my new nephew's was striking. I knew how close the names were to each other, but seeing them spelled out beside each other took my breath away.

Drew James, Jameson Drew. Different enough that he is very much his own person--which is important.  But the name of the cousin he'll never meet this side of Heaven will be with him all of his life. Which means a lot, to this still grieving mother's heart that is worried he's being forgotten.

As I looked upon the face of this sweet new baby, yet unharmed by this world, innocent and fresh, my heart felt a lot of things. The best of which being hope.  Hope for a new life, another Grove in this world. Life is so very precious, and I sat in awe of the miracle it is. What a gift God gave my brother and his wife, our family, with this little baby. 

Who will you turn into little one, what will be your legacy sweet boy??

Obviously my heart was also sad.  Sad for my own baby I'll not get to hold again.  Sad for the adventures this little boy and mine could have had. The holiday kid tables they'll never sit at together, the photos of summer time visits that will be one cousin short... 

I've learned in the last four years that I can be both. Both filled with hope and sadness, without either canceling the other out. Hopeful, and also a bit sad.

I remind myself that, just as Drew's life was never meant to be any longer than it was, Jameson was never meant to know his cousin here on earth.  God, in his perfect plan, never had their lives overlapping. They weren't suppose to share those moments, be in the same realm...yet. 

He'll no doubt hear stories about Drew. See his picture.  He'll be another one that knows of Drew, and what happened to him, but never meet him. Yet, God will use Drew and what happened to him to make Jameson just who he intended him to be.  Drew's life will impact his cousin I know, and that is how they will be connected, through more than a name.  He'll benefit from the legacy Drew left behind for him, just like all the rest of us touched by his life.

Maybe we all could spend some time thinking about our legacy. Some great tragedy didn't have to happen to you, or some grand achieved reached-- each day of your life influences, and impacts, those around you. For the better or for worse.  Which will it be?

This year, our connections with the world were very apparent. Contact tracing can be a nightmare for the really involved person.  What if we could contact trace our legacy?  See the ways we've changed others by our life?  I believe some day we will.  And that my Drew already us been shown his great impact on this world. And I can't explain it, but I can just feel in my heart that with that knowledge, Drew would do it all again.  He would endure each round of chemo and the week of being sick after, each painful procedure, each uncomfortable scan, for the good that it has brought into the world. And that makes me so proud.

 Yes, by the end of this my head has convinced my heart that even without every detail memorized, he certainly is not forgotten by anyone.  We are connected with him, and he with us in many ways (some we may not even be aware of). His life impacted many, and still does today.  In our family, in our family of friends, and in our community. His legacy continues to gift joy, wisdom, and peace to those who are a part of it. 

We miss you Drewy Clause.  Happy Glory Day. We think of you often, our hearts and minds know that you are with us.  You are with us in our memories, in our work, in our attitude, in our adventures, and in our joy. Our hearts ache to see you again, to hold you and never let go. In one year less time, that's just what we'll do 💗

Cleaning out Closets

And just like that, 2020 is over!  We're starting a new year, having a fresh beginning.  Or are we?

Our family had a nice last day of 2020. Like much of the year, we weren't able to do some of things we've done in the past to ring in the new year--attend a party, go out to eat, ect.  But we made the best of it.  We went coat shopping actually, and picked up take out for supper on the way home.  We watched the coverage of Times Square, but it wasn't the same this year either.  Empty streets, no excited vibe.  

In fact, the vibe was very negative, depressing.  It seemed that story after story from the year was all bad, tragic and awful.  Images of pandemic, celebrity deaths, destructive storms, forest on fire as well as cities from riots. From the content to the tone of the announcers, it was hard to watch without catching the contagious "worst year ever" attitude.  Were there no good things that happened?

In conversations online and in person, there seems to be so much hope for 2021 to be better.  But not in a traditional, faithful way--more in a "this world owes me after last year" way.  The statements and posts of many people seem to suggest that they are somehow due for a good year after what they've endured. That hardship and suffering isn't how life is suppose to go, and they were wronged.

I've offered a different prospect this year.  That the opposite is actually true according to the Bible--this world will always give us hardship and struggle.  We are foolish to expect an easy life. But we can choose to make the most of what we do have.  See the positive, and help others.  We can decide not to be a victim but an overcomer. 

Is a challenging year always a bad year?  When things are hard, does that mean there is something wrong, someone to blame? Should we count a whole year of our lives as a loss if we can't immediately see positive results? 

This fall after trying to store more things into the guest room closet without success, I decided there was no time like the present to finally go through the bins of boy clothes that were taking up so much space.  

I knew how many were filled with clothes Drew either wore or I intended for him to. Five totes of articles of clothing from sizes 24mo to 4T. The movers have brought them with us from Austin to Chicago, and then from Chicago out to Colorado. I haven't made myself go through them since I emptied his drawers and packed them away, after he wouldn't be needing them any more...

 I knew it would be painful.  His favorite shirts, my favorite shirts (which weren't always the same), shoes, little boy jammies, barely used swim suits, and a whole new size of clothes he never grew into. I've been putting it off, storing it away. Trying to avoid the pain.

But being stuck at home during a pandemic and staring at the stuff I'd like to be storing in that closet instead of stacked against a wall, gave me the motivation to just do it.  Bring out the bins, open them up, sort the clothes and let many of them go. It was time.

It hurt as much as I thought it would. The "Most Awesome Little Brother" shirt 💔 A physical reminder that we do have a little brother in this family.  That Molly is as much a big sister as every oldest daughter she meets.

And some unexpected blows--his coat that I evidently hadn't washed before putting away, and the drool (probably sicky) still on the front. Something from my son, even if it wasn't pleasant.  And a T-shirt with paint stains on it--what were you painting my sweet boy? I never thought soiled and dirty clothes would be such a treasure.

 

 I sat for three days in the guest room, sorting, crying, and taking photos to sell the stuff I  knew I didn't need to hold on to.  I went from 5 bins to not a full 3 between all the sets that were sold, junk thrown out, and the rest donated.

It felt good to let it go.  And even though it hurt, the stained clothes and familiar shirts brought him back to life if only for a moment...

It was empowering too--those bins of clothes couldn't taunt me anymore.  "Don't dare open me up, you can't handle it!"  Well I did, and I could.  I got the space back in the closet, and the room it opened up was so freeing!

Didn't a lot of us have the opportunity to have this same experience in 2020?  Circumstances kept us home and we finally had had enough, found the motivation, to clean out some of the closets in our lives. Maybe, like me, you had grief from a loss to process.  Or a strained relationship that needed attention.  Bad habits that were on full display with our people around 24/7, which needed to be kicked.  Possibly a secret that could no longer be kept without the usual distractions and crutches. 

If we were brave enough, 2020 was just the year to sit on the floor and sort it all out with a Kleenex box beside us. To let the memories, regrets, anger and resentment out of the closet and deal with them. It isn't easy, it hurts, but if we persist, healing, peace, and empowerment wait for us after we're through.  And then you have room for whatever you want in your closet, things that will fill us with joy instead of pain and resentment, in the new year.  Some of us did just this, and we are better for it than we were a year ago. Which really is the goal, right?

No, a challenging year isn't necessarily a bad year. When things are hard, it doesn't always mean that there is something wrong. Not seeing immediately positive results, shouldn't be a reason to count a year as a total loss. If we can grow, heal, and change for the better, it was a good year indeed. The world doesn't owe us a better year, we have to stand up and make it a better year. Going through your closet, working on making yourself and your life better--that's what will really make 2021 better than 2020.

I hope not to minimize the truly difficult year many had. I don't want to gloss over the loved ones who died from COVID, the businesses that were forced to close, the big life events put on hold or canceled, and the loneliness and isolation too many suffered. Believe me, I know how it feels to have your whole world stop while everyone else's seems to keeps going. Its unfair, frustrating, and worth grieving over.

Even in those times though, we have a choice. And it serves us best to not let our circumstances get the best of us.  We'll end up the winner after all if we don't give up our power to things we can't control. 

But we know that if nothing changes, nothing changes.  A negative attitude like what was all over TV last week to ring in the new year, will only bring more of the same in 2021, and unfortunately it looks like it already has.  This first week of 2021 shows that many have not learned much from 2020.  That closets are still full of anger, pain, and aggression.  We still are looking for others to blame, or someone else to take out our frustrations on.  

I hope that changes.  I hope and pray that this isn't how 2021 will go too. For our country, for our families, for the world.  But it's up to us.  Each of us, in our own homes and hearts.

There were some positive things that happened in 2020. There were beautiful sunrises and sunsets. New life joined many families. Intimate, loving memories were made while we were all stuck at home. New opportunities came up, and adventures were taken. Miracles of healing occurred as science and God's mercy worked together to treat sick patients. Scientists produced a vaccine, in record time, to eventually bring an end this pandemic. And all of us came one year closer to the day that all will be made right when the Lord returns, there will be no more sickness, true justice will prevail, and we'll be reunited with our loved ones forever 💕