Promises Kept

" The Drew we knew was fading each day.

“My bum bum hurt, Mom. Bum bum huuurt!”

Hearing his weak voice say this over and over broke my heart.

“I know, Bobo. It’s going to be okay.”

We could assume that he had sores in his digestive tract. These sores are like a canker sore, a digestive tract full of canker sores. So far, none in his mouth. We could be thankful for that.

I actually got in bed with him, which wasn’t our usual. His warm, feverish body lay against mine, still smelling faintly of creamed corn. Side by side we sat. Not sleeping yet not fully awake, Drew just lay there draped in tubes carrying aid to his little body, trying to gain some comfort from his mom.

At this point, Drew was on three anti-nausea meds, two pain meds, two antibiotics, and the drug to stimulate his bone marrow to bounce back. He had received a blood transfusion, and his mouth was washed out four times a day with a special rinse to stay ahead of the oral sores. We were certainly doing all we could to help him, to keep him comfortable. While it broke our hearts, Josh and I agreed that we'd seen him worse. Which spoke more to where we had been, than where we were. "

I read through this section of the book last month and sat here and cried and cried. I cried for all my Drew went through. For what was asked of him, at only two years old. I cried because I knew how the story ends--this brutal treatment plan didn't work. He died, despite surviving the powerful chemo drugs, scary infections, and painful side effects. I cried because I miss my baby. Because a part of me is gone, and it still hurts even almost 9 years later...

Over the summer the publisher edited the manuscript for Grasping Joy. They put it through their system and then reviewed the suggested changes. It was passed back to me next and I spent August pouring over every sentence, accepting or rejecting the corrections. Re-working and making adjustments to the text.

The hardest part was the grief it opened up in my heart. While the book is about joy, and I wrote it intending the story to be as much uplifting and encouraging as sad, it had been a while since I'd thought about that year, the last year of Drew's life. Reading through and reliving what I hope to be some of the worst days, the worst moments, of my life was difficult and painful. How could I not cry?

But, just like when I was writing it, there was a bright side--I got to spend time with my Drewy again. I could close my eyes and see him smiling back at me.

 

Watch his lips and hear his little voice saying the words I remember. Feel his sparkle, his energy, once again. He was back to life, back in my life, as I read about his antics. Was reminded of his jokes. Saw him be so strong and brave as just a little boy.

With Drew fresh in my mind, I noticed him gone again, and the familiar ache in my heart, returned. The extra seat at the table, the missing little brother on parent night at school, the fourth face that's not in the Shutterfly puzzle I recently put together of us on vacation.

I remember what it felt like to be the mom of both a daughter and a son. To have two chicks in my nest that I got to care for and enjoy. I miss being that mom. I miss that life I used to have.

After I got through the hard chapters, the ones filled with Drew's suffering, I remembered the comfort I drew after his life ended. This grief, this pain I feel now, I bear in his place. The sickness, the sores, the aches he endured that make me cry to think about, have stopped for him. I remember wishing I could take the suffering for him while he was alive. And now that he's not, I have gotten my wish. While he enjoys Paradise, it's my turn now. And remembering that purpose makes the weight of grief a little easier to carry.


It's finally starting to cool off here in Fresno. Beginning to feel like fall--or as close to fall as we get in the Central Valley. While I had a break from the work of writing and publishing a book, our family had a wonderful summer. We really packed it, as usual, but I don't regret any of the trips or long weekends.

 

Sometimes I can feel guilty about the life we have now, like we shouldn't be enjoying ourselves so much without our Drew. I've wrote about that and can find peace with the negative voices trying to hold me back from joy most of the time.

As Drew's life was coming to an end at the conclusion of the book, it was good for me to read all the promises we made to him and to ourselves. One stood out the most right now--that we wouldn't let cancer take anything more from us. That we'd give Molly the childhood Drew wasn't going to get to have. Our lives would be lived to the fullest each day, just as we'd learned on our journey with Drew. We promised that we'd take every opportunity to LIVE, in honor of our Drew who wasn't going to get the chance.

And I guess that that's just what we're doing.


We're getting so close to this story becoming a real book. The projected launch is now less than six months away! It's been another whole journey to get to this point. Many of you have come along with me, cheering me on. I began writing at the start of the school year in 2021, so it's been over four years now that I've been working on this book.

Gosh, I miss my faithful emotional support cat...

In those four years, I can look back and see so many times that God guided me through. From giving me the strength, words, and diligence to get it written, to connecting me with my editor in Colorado, to pairing me with my publisher. I'm in awe, truly, at what God can do if you're willing to follow. I'm sure it'll be just as exciting to see what happens from here!


My tears last month weren't all sad. Reading through some wonderful memories filled me with the joy I describe and explain in the book. I'm so glad I have captured on the pages some of the best moments of my life, too:

" The next day, Molly got the Gator out after we picked her up from school. She sat down in the driver’s seat, and Drew climbed up beside her. She first started swerving around the front yard, but eventually began making laps around the house. I hid in the bushes and then jumped out into their path as they rounded the corner. They both squealed with laughter, and Molly jerked the wheel to avoid me.

I laughed, too.

When they came around the next time, I could hear them giggling in anticipation as I stood in my hiding spot waiting for them. As I jumped in their path this time, they squealed even louder. Surprise, joy, and innocence. If those things had an expression all wrapped into one, it was on both of their faces. We played this game for a few more rounds until the laughter made its way to my broken heart. I had a smile on my face, a genuine smile, when they finally lost interest in our little game.

As I laid them down for naptime, I felt a familiar peace rivaling the sadness and shock. During my break in the middle of the day, I thought about Drew and his joy that afternoon. Again, his age and understanding saved him from feeling what Josh and I were. He didn’t know that he was going to die but just knew it was fun to ride in the Gator with his sister. "

 

The good and the bad, the joy and the sadness, balance and complete each other. As I discovered they always do. It's possible to have joy even in sadness, peace even when your heart is broken. But you already know all this. I'm looking forward to sharing it with everyone else💖