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 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 💗
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