Details for the services have been worked out. For anyone who is interested and able to come, there will be a visitation on Tuesday, January 24th, from 12-2:30PM, and a Memorial Service at 3PM. There will be a donut (A favorite of Drew's) and coffee reception following. All at Faith Church in Austin. I am looking forward to the services. I think it'll be a nice celebration of the wonder that Drew was, and continues to be on the other side of eternity.
We had a private viewing just for immediate family yesterday to say our final goodbyes before the cremation took place. It was a hard day, but easier because I watched it happen in front of my eyes all week. He looked so much better than the last time I saw him. So "normal" and peaceful. Molly handled it pretty well, and we felt it was a good thing for her to have some closure. Overall she seems to be grasping what we mean by "Drew's with God" and that his body isn't alive anymore. But I think time will tell, just as with all of us, how she will react.
The outpouring of love that started last week in the hospital has continued since we've been back in town. It is unbelievable how much support you all have and are giving us. I do not know how someone could go through something like this without such a wonderful community--local and afar through cyberspace. Thank you doesn't begin to cover it, but know that we appreciate every message, every kind gesture that has been expressed to us this week.
We are doing okay. I have a feeling when our new reality sets in, it will be harder than right now when there is still so much hustle and bustle. But we left St Mary's Thursday with peace. No doubt from the God that has sustained us this whole year. Not saying "goodbye" but "see you" was so much easier because of the hope we have in Christ.
We also left with a deep sense of peace because of Drew. He left us so peacefully, we knew he'd be okay. And for the first time in a year, I am home and I don't have to worry about him. To wonder what would happen. To sleep with an ear open, ready to go in to him with more pain meds or to clean up after he got sick. I have not had to wonder where the cancer was spreading, or if he hurts...because I know he doesn't hurt anymore!
Obviously the grief and sorrow is very real too. I have had a stomach ache ever since I saw him yesterday. Ever since we looked through pictures for 2 hours for the visitation, and as I wrote the piece to be read at his service. We miss him. The noise he brought, the phrases he said, the joy he just was. I will probably write more about it, but I feel like this whole experience was shockingly similar to childbirth. And the part right now is how things feel so different, just like when you add a life to your family, only this time one was taken away. So I know it will become our new normal, and it won't feel so weird someday. But for now it feels weird, and not comfortable.
So that's where we are. A blend of happy for Drew, and so sad for us. Thank you for all your prayers, keep them coming. But this time not for Drew, for Molly and us, a we search for the people we are going to become without him physically with us.
Here is a link to his obituary and service information:
1-24-17 Drew's funeral service
It was a beautiful service today, and I was so touched by all who were able to make it. There is still so much to say, and I'll get to it! But for now I just wanted to post the piece I wrote that was read today at the service:
It will be so different without Drew, so hard to move on without him right by my side each day. But I know that he would want us to be happy. In fact he’s told me before when I’ve cried in front of him, “not sad Mom, happy!”, so I will try to be happy for him. Because that certainly is the way he was.
Born on April Fools day, his due date, we should have known we’d be in for an interesting ride. But as a baby he was so easy. As soon as he started smiling, I think we all can agree, he never stopped. In fact that was my biggest complaint when we was a baby—he smiled too much. Trying to remember him in the first few months, I don’t recall a lot. I’ve decided it’s because he was so content and happy, I didn’t pay as much attention to him as his more vivacious two year old sister! But when he started to walk I found out what “all boy” meant. He only sat still when he was eating or sleeping! Always being on the go, left me exhausted, but that smile could give me energy to follow him to his next great discovery. He figured out the duty of all little brothers, bugging their big sister, quickly. And he was good at it. His first word came later than Molly’s, and was“tractor”, which probably doesn’t surprise anyone. Timeouts were hard to do with him, because he’d always want to skip to the “I love you’s” and kisses part before the infraction was discussed! He loved to push things. Toy shopping carts, lawnmowers, ball poppers, vacuums, and even chairs.
But then he started to slow down. So gradually we didn’t see it. Subtly, he started sitting and playing with toys more. Drew was so good at holding stuff in, tolerating pain, that we didn’t even know what had been brewing for years. Until God decided it was time, time for Drew to begin his work. Our lives changed a lot the last year as cancer officially became a part of it.
Once we started to make Drew better, it was night and day. Drew was back. He really came alive, probably more literally than we know. His words came—and I thought he was the quiet one! And he fit right into his new world, blowing kisses to nurses, playing with other children in the playroom at the hospital, and cooperating with procedures and treatments better than anyone had ever seen in their careers. You could tell when Drew didn’t feel good—it wasn’t Drew. But he could turn around in a matter of hours, and be right back at pushing cars and lawn mowers down the hallway. His joyful soul fought his plagued little body to experience all the fun he could, even in his final days.
And I think that’s what Drew taught us all. Whatever our situation, you can make the best of it. You can choose joy. Drew never felt sorry for himself. Never was he mad at anyone who worked with him—in fact he said “I’m sorry” to the nurses after he’d get sick while they cleaned him up. His “thank you” melted everyone’s heart. Which is, I think, what touched everyone so deeply. He had such a trust of people, a love he tried to give to everyone who he met. No doubt a love directly from Jesus. He was so sweet and happy, it was hard to imagine why God would allow all He did in Drew’s life. But if Drew had been any other way, I don’t think he would have had the impact that he did. And God knew that.
I know Drew was made exactly for the purpose he fulfilled. Drew did everything that was asked of him with a smile on his face, even the hard things. And then, when his job was done, he went back to God. It’s as simple as that. How did we get through this year? because of Jesus, and of Drew. And I have no doubt that’s how we’ll get through now that he’s gone. If you don’t know the power and peace that Jesus can give, I urge you to seek Him out. He won’t disappoint.
When we took Drew home the first time, 28 days after his diagnosis, we knew we had a choice. We could take him home, and pout. Be angry at all we weren’t going to be able to do. At all that was happening to us that we so didn’t deserve. But then we knew if we did that then we’d only be wasting the precious days we had with him. If we had spent the last year upset, or worried, we’d have missed what was right in front of us—our precious son. I am so glad that God lead us to that decision, to embrace each day. Because sitting here today, we can honestly say we have absolutely no regrets. We lived every day with Drew just where we were, and enjoyed it. Even if we didn’t want to, even when it was hard. We had the best moments of our lives this year, mixed in with the worst.
We didn’t say goodbye last week. We said what he says to us whenever we leave, “See you!”. Because of the hope we have in Christ, it really is not good bye. It really is, see you later! And we will. We can’t wait to see him in all the glory he so deserves. We also told him to go play, he was all done. And we are so glad he is, all done with the work that God gave him. God couldn’t have crafted a better little boy to endure, to love others, and to spread joy. We will never be sorry God gave him to us, even if it feels way to short. Drew will always be the best thing that happened to us, and never the worst, cancer and all. Drew accomplished and touched more lives than most of us will in decades of living. And we are so proud of him. In so many ways, we are so proud to be what we always will be—Drew’s mom, dad and sister.
We will miss you Drew, but we will be okay. Because we know you would want us to be. Be Happy, Not sad.
I can't write it enough, thank you all for your support and your continued prayers!
~Heidi
It will be so different without Drew, so hard to move on without him right by my side each day. But I know that he would want us to be happy. In fact he’s told me before when I’ve cried in front of him, “not sad Mom, happy!”, so I will try to be happy for him. Because that certainly is the way he was.
Born on April Fools day, his due date, we should have known we’d be in for an interesting ride. But as a baby he was so easy. As soon as he started smiling, I think we all can agree, he never stopped. In fact that was my biggest complaint when we was a baby—he smiled too much. Trying to remember him in the first few months, I don’t recall a lot. I’ve decided it’s because he was so content and happy, I didn’t pay as much attention to him as his more vivacious two year old sister! But when he started to walk I found out what “all boy” meant. He only sat still when he was eating or sleeping! Always being on the go, left me exhausted, but that smile could give me energy to follow him to his next great discovery. He figured out the duty of all little brothers, bugging their big sister, quickly. And he was good at it. His first word came later than Molly’s, and was“tractor”, which probably doesn’t surprise anyone. Timeouts were hard to do with him, because he’d always want to skip to the “I love you’s” and kisses part before the infraction was discussed! He loved to push things. Toy shopping carts, lawnmowers, ball poppers, vacuums, and even chairs.
But then he started to slow down. So gradually we didn’t see it. Subtly, he started sitting and playing with toys more. Drew was so good at holding stuff in, tolerating pain, that we didn’t even know what had been brewing for years. Until God decided it was time, time for Drew to begin his work. Our lives changed a lot the last year as cancer officially became a part of it.
Once we started to make Drew better, it was night and day. Drew was back. He really came alive, probably more literally than we know. His words came—and I thought he was the quiet one! And he fit right into his new world, blowing kisses to nurses, playing with other children in the playroom at the hospital, and cooperating with procedures and treatments better than anyone had ever seen in their careers. You could tell when Drew didn’t feel good—it wasn’t Drew. But he could turn around in a matter of hours, and be right back at pushing cars and lawn mowers down the hallway. His joyful soul fought his plagued little body to experience all the fun he could, even in his final days.
And I think that’s what Drew taught us all. Whatever our situation, you can make the best of it. You can choose joy. Drew never felt sorry for himself. Never was he mad at anyone who worked with him—in fact he said “I’m sorry” to the nurses after he’d get sick while they cleaned him up. His “thank you” melted everyone’s heart. Which is, I think, what touched everyone so deeply. He had such a trust of people, a love he tried to give to everyone who he met. No doubt a love directly from Jesus. He was so sweet and happy, it was hard to imagine why God would allow all He did in Drew’s life. But if Drew had been any other way, I don’t think he would have had the impact that he did. And God knew that.
I know Drew was made exactly for the purpose he fulfilled. Drew did everything that was asked of him with a smile on his face, even the hard things. And then, when his job was done, he went back to God. It’s as simple as that. How did we get through this year? because of Jesus, and of Drew. And I have no doubt that’s how we’ll get through now that he’s gone. If you don’t know the power and peace that Jesus can give, I urge you to seek Him out. He won’t disappoint.
When we took Drew home the first time, 28 days after his diagnosis, we knew we had a choice. We could take him home, and pout. Be angry at all we weren’t going to be able to do. At all that was happening to us that we so didn’t deserve. But then we knew if we did that then we’d only be wasting the precious days we had with him. If we had spent the last year upset, or worried, we’d have missed what was right in front of us—our precious son. I am so glad that God lead us to that decision, to embrace each day. Because sitting here today, we can honestly say we have absolutely no regrets. We lived every day with Drew just where we were, and enjoyed it. Even if we didn’t want to, even when it was hard. We had the best moments of our lives this year, mixed in with the worst.
We didn’t say goodbye last week. We said what he says to us whenever we leave, “See you!”. Because of the hope we have in Christ, it really is not good bye. It really is, see you later! And we will. We can’t wait to see him in all the glory he so deserves. We also told him to go play, he was all done. And we are so glad he is, all done with the work that God gave him. God couldn’t have crafted a better little boy to endure, to love others, and to spread joy. We will never be sorry God gave him to us, even if it feels way to short. Drew will always be the best thing that happened to us, and never the worst, cancer and all. Drew accomplished and touched more lives than most of us will in decades of living. And we are so proud of him. In so many ways, we are so proud to be what we always will be—Drew’s mom, dad and sister.
We will miss you Drew, but we will be okay. Because we know you would want us to be. Be Happy, Not sad.
I can't write it enough, thank you all for your support and your continued prayers!
~Heidi
1-27-17
The visitation and service was wonderful. I saw people from all aspects of our lives. All seasons, all places; and all expressing such love and sincere condolences that really did bring comfort. I hated to see the tears, those that were so upset. It’s too bad that so many have to share in this heartache! But I know it’s because you love us, because you care. And it reminds me that as good of friends as we have here on earth, the best friend we have is in Jesus. If these people, with the best intentions but flawed as we all are, can care so much for us, how much more does Jesus? How big of a hug does he wish to physically give me? How many tears has He shed watching us endure such heartbreak? If I try, I can feel his embrace. I can hear his whispers of a better future, the glory that is to come. And I thank Him for the comfort that brings, just as I thanked everyone this week.
The service itself was just what I had hoped for. A true celebration of the powerful life Drew lead on earth, and also a time to reflect on the power we all have in life. The power to save ourselves through faith, the power to serve others and by doing so, serve God. And also the power that comes from being obedient to His calling. And there is so much power in that. How could one little two year old boy have done all that everyone told me he did for them, if not by the power of God behind him. And all we have to do is what he tells us to. It’s as simple and beautiful as that.
We played the clip of Drew ringing the bell after he was done with radiation. A rite of passage after you’ve completed treatments. It seemed so perfect as Drew very well could have gotten a big bell to ring as he entered into heaven. The saying above the bell in the radiation department reads, “My treatments are done, It’s course has run, And I am on my way”. I imagine the heavenly bell says, “My work is done, The course is run, and now I am on my way”. And no doubt Jesus said to my baby boy, “Well done, my good an faithful servant.”
Going though cards is another way place where I have been comforted and moved by other’s words. One thought perfectly sums up what I have been trying to put into words. “We all prayed so hard for every step you took—But God’s work seemed to be done through you and not to you”. What a beautiful way to say it. We all prayed SO hard and often for God to work a miracle in Drew. And I’m realizing He did, but not as we asked. The miracle was the work He did through a sweet little two year old child. This whole year we went through each step thinking the purpose was to rid Drew of the cancer. But God had a different purpose in mind; a bigger purpose that took each step to accomplish—to spread the truth and love of God. Each day, each step in treatment was never meant to cure him, but to touch someone different. Reach someone new that needed encouragement, love, hope or joy.
I remember one day I had Drew in a tucked away courtyard we found by the rehab wing. A lady came out and said her ailing mother had been watching us each day that week and it gave her such pleasure to watch Drew play, and me chase after him with his pole. Whatever our reason for being inpatient that week was not really that reason, but to bring joy to that lady. Looking back I can see so many of these times. So many people or chain of events that must have been what we were REALLY doing there that day. And I did see this along the way. I did realize the work Drew was doing, I had just hoped him being healed would be a part of it. And I guess it was. Because now he IS healed. More whole than he was going to be on Earth even if we had “beaten” the cancer.
Another card quoted James Joyce, “ ‘They lived and laughed; And loved and left’ and the world will never be the same.” I know our world will never be the same, and it shouldn’t. All week people have been telling me how inspiring we are. If I haven’t said it enough, I’ll say it again. DREW was the inspiring one. He is the one who, going through what adults who endured similar treatment say is the worst pain, sickness, and recovery, got himself up and enjoyed each day. That is the inspiration I have to keep going. Yes when Drew was down, he was down. And this is our time to be down. To rest. To recover. But, like Drew, we will get up again and chose to enjoy each day. And continue to follow God’s lead in the life that is to come. Because I know that each day has a purpose, that makes sure the world will never be the same. And there is such power in choosing to be apart of it.
‘God doesn’t waste hurt”—another line from a friend’s card. For all the suffering and pain we’ve been through, I know it was not in vain. This week, as person after person, card after card, tells me all that Drew did for them, I know that all we went through this last year was not a waste. And some of the results, the harvest if you will, from Drew’s work I still don’t know on this side of heaven. But it brings me comfort to know that on the other side, where Drew is, he does. He has been filled in on all the “whys”, all the good that came of his sufferings this past year. And I know my son, I know he would do it all over again for the good of others. If we all could be more like him!
So overall, the family has left. Molly went back to school. Josh will return to work on Monday. The dust is starting to settle, the storm beginning to lift, and we are getting the first glimpse of what will be our new world. As we adjust into it, we’ll no doubt feel more growing pains. And grief pains. But for now, we are still okay. Taking one day at a time. Resting. Trusting a God who got us through an unimaginable year, to help us get through the next. Letting ourselves be however we are, which so far has been at peace. Tired, but at peace. Keep praying for our recovery process. For the grief to not over power us. For us to take the time to rest from the last year, before we try to “figure out” the next step from here. For us to continue to chose joy and be thankful. What I have learned is the only way to truly live in whatever circumstance!
Our wonderful friend Lynne Port took photos for us of the services I wanted to share here. So glad to have these memories!
~Heidi
The service itself was just what I had hoped for. A true celebration of the powerful life Drew lead on earth, and also a time to reflect on the power we all have in life. The power to save ourselves through faith, the power to serve others and by doing so, serve God. And also the power that comes from being obedient to His calling. And there is so much power in that. How could one little two year old boy have done all that everyone told me he did for them, if not by the power of God behind him. And all we have to do is what he tells us to. It’s as simple and beautiful as that.
We played the clip of Drew ringing the bell after he was done with radiation. A rite of passage after you’ve completed treatments. It seemed so perfect as Drew very well could have gotten a big bell to ring as he entered into heaven. The saying above the bell in the radiation department reads, “My treatments are done, It’s course has run, And I am on my way”. I imagine the heavenly bell says, “My work is done, The course is run, and now I am on my way”. And no doubt Jesus said to my baby boy, “Well done, my good an faithful servant.”
Going though cards is another way place where I have been comforted and moved by other’s words. One thought perfectly sums up what I have been trying to put into words. “We all prayed so hard for every step you took—But God’s work seemed to be done through you and not to you”. What a beautiful way to say it. We all prayed SO hard and often for God to work a miracle in Drew. And I’m realizing He did, but not as we asked. The miracle was the work He did through a sweet little two year old child. This whole year we went through each step thinking the purpose was to rid Drew of the cancer. But God had a different purpose in mind; a bigger purpose that took each step to accomplish—to spread the truth and love of God. Each day, each step in treatment was never meant to cure him, but to touch someone different. Reach someone new that needed encouragement, love, hope or joy.
I remember one day I had Drew in a tucked away courtyard we found by the rehab wing. A lady came out and said her ailing mother had been watching us each day that week and it gave her such pleasure to watch Drew play, and me chase after him with his pole. Whatever our reason for being inpatient that week was not really that reason, but to bring joy to that lady. Looking back I can see so many of these times. So many people or chain of events that must have been what we were REALLY doing there that day. And I did see this along the way. I did realize the work Drew was doing, I had just hoped him being healed would be a part of it. And I guess it was. Because now he IS healed. More whole than he was going to be on Earth even if we had “beaten” the cancer.
Another card quoted James Joyce, “ ‘They lived and laughed; And loved and left’ and the world will never be the same.” I know our world will never be the same, and it shouldn’t. All week people have been telling me how inspiring we are. If I haven’t said it enough, I’ll say it again. DREW was the inspiring one. He is the one who, going through what adults who endured similar treatment say is the worst pain, sickness, and recovery, got himself up and enjoyed each day. That is the inspiration I have to keep going. Yes when Drew was down, he was down. And this is our time to be down. To rest. To recover. But, like Drew, we will get up again and chose to enjoy each day. And continue to follow God’s lead in the life that is to come. Because I know that each day has a purpose, that makes sure the world will never be the same. And there is such power in choosing to be apart of it.
‘God doesn’t waste hurt”—another line from a friend’s card. For all the suffering and pain we’ve been through, I know it was not in vain. This week, as person after person, card after card, tells me all that Drew did for them, I know that all we went through this last year was not a waste. And some of the results, the harvest if you will, from Drew’s work I still don’t know on this side of heaven. But it brings me comfort to know that on the other side, where Drew is, he does. He has been filled in on all the “whys”, all the good that came of his sufferings this past year. And I know my son, I know he would do it all over again for the good of others. If we all could be more like him!
So overall, the family has left. Molly went back to school. Josh will return to work on Monday. The dust is starting to settle, the storm beginning to lift, and we are getting the first glimpse of what will be our new world. As we adjust into it, we’ll no doubt feel more growing pains. And grief pains. But for now, we are still okay. Taking one day at a time. Resting. Trusting a God who got us through an unimaginable year, to help us get through the next. Letting ourselves be however we are, which so far has been at peace. Tired, but at peace. Keep praying for our recovery process. For the grief to not over power us. For us to take the time to rest from the last year, before we try to “figure out” the next step from here. For us to continue to chose joy and be thankful. What I have learned is the only way to truly live in whatever circumstance!
Our wonderful friend Lynne Port took photos for us of the services I wanted to share here. So glad to have these memories!
~Heidi
1-30-17
I know everyone wants to know how I'm doing. So here it is. Josh is on business this week, Molly is back in school. For the first time since Drew's been gone, I've been alone. And it felt really good. I thought I'd cry. But I didn't. Instead I worked my way through a to-do list, and felt pretty good about getting things done. I actually haven't cried a lot yet. I think I've been wondering myself why I haven't been crying. Why I haven't been feeling the terrible, unimaginable pain that every card I read or person I talk to assumes I'm feeling. And maybe it's still coming (I am not naive enough to think it won't). But for now, I need to let go of expectations. Everyone else seems to give me permission to feel however I want, but myself.
Maybe it really is just the peace of God sheltering me, through all your prayers. Or the relief that is first felt after an ordeal like we've been through, and we can finally rest. Or maybe too it's that we've been spreading out the tears. We were told Nov 1st that Drew wouldn't survive this. Then 6 weeks later, right before Christmas, that there was really nothing left to do for him, that he could have weeks to live. I cried on the last warm day in November, walking them home from the park, knowing it was probably his last visit. I cried when I stopped putting a plate out for him at our dinner table even earlier than that, because I finally was done pretending he ate. I cried on vacation as they enjoyed their bunk beds because I knew they'd never have another night like that again. And again as he swam in the pool in Florida, knowing he probably won't make it until summer to swim again. We've been grieving what was to come for a while, and now that it's here, I guess for right now, I'm emotionally spent.
Then just as I convince myself it's okay to not be overwhelmed with sadness, I do start to feel the pain of missing him. Beginning to see how hard it will be to live without a part of me. His smile, his joy, his energy, and his love. I miss his, "Love you!", and his "How about we sit in the chair Mom?". Even the fighting I'm starting to miss, the noise. I've begun to imagine how he'd react to whatever cool thing I come across. Or look at all these pictures of such good times taken so recently and try to take myself back there, to experience him again. I watch videos on my phone just to hear his voice again. Molly said this week, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could see a movie of what Drew's doing in heaven with God? I bet he's doing tablets, telling knock-knock jokes, and eating pickles all day!". I too wonder what he's been up to in the last couple weeks... I know it will just get worse for a while. And I'm realizing I can still believe all that I've said, still trust in God, still be proud of Drew and acknowledge all the good that has come out of this, but still cry for myself. Because I miss him. Because I'm so disappointed it had to turn out this way. So upset for the life I loved with my little family, all together in the same realm, that is never going to be the same.
So if this sounds confusing, it's because it is. And maybe the next time I write I will feel differently, and I guess that will be okay too. "There are no rules for grief" everyone keeps saying. And that's hard for me. I'm a very structure oriented, rule following kind of person. I'm working on writing some rules, just to give myself something to follow! But for now I will continue in the disciplines that have gotten me through so much--looking for things to be thankful for each day. Choosing joy. Letting my strength come from God, and turning to Him for comfort before anyone or anything else. Because ultimately, only He, the God of comfort, can offer peace.
Keep praying for us!
Here's Molly at her school Art night tonight, and "working out" with me after I got done on the treadmill today!
~Heidi
Maybe it really is just the peace of God sheltering me, through all your prayers. Or the relief that is first felt after an ordeal like we've been through, and we can finally rest. Or maybe too it's that we've been spreading out the tears. We were told Nov 1st that Drew wouldn't survive this. Then 6 weeks later, right before Christmas, that there was really nothing left to do for him, that he could have weeks to live. I cried on the last warm day in November, walking them home from the park, knowing it was probably his last visit. I cried when I stopped putting a plate out for him at our dinner table even earlier than that, because I finally was done pretending he ate. I cried on vacation as they enjoyed their bunk beds because I knew they'd never have another night like that again. And again as he swam in the pool in Florida, knowing he probably won't make it until summer to swim again. We've been grieving what was to come for a while, and now that it's here, I guess for right now, I'm emotionally spent.
Then just as I convince myself it's okay to not be overwhelmed with sadness, I do start to feel the pain of missing him. Beginning to see how hard it will be to live without a part of me. His smile, his joy, his energy, and his love. I miss his, "Love you!", and his "How about we sit in the chair Mom?". Even the fighting I'm starting to miss, the noise. I've begun to imagine how he'd react to whatever cool thing I come across. Or look at all these pictures of such good times taken so recently and try to take myself back there, to experience him again. I watch videos on my phone just to hear his voice again. Molly said this week, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could see a movie of what Drew's doing in heaven with God? I bet he's doing tablets, telling knock-knock jokes, and eating pickles all day!". I too wonder what he's been up to in the last couple weeks... I know it will just get worse for a while. And I'm realizing I can still believe all that I've said, still trust in God, still be proud of Drew and acknowledge all the good that has come out of this, but still cry for myself. Because I miss him. Because I'm so disappointed it had to turn out this way. So upset for the life I loved with my little family, all together in the same realm, that is never going to be the same.
So if this sounds confusing, it's because it is. And maybe the next time I write I will feel differently, and I guess that will be okay too. "There are no rules for grief" everyone keeps saying. And that's hard for me. I'm a very structure oriented, rule following kind of person. I'm working on writing some rules, just to give myself something to follow! But for now I will continue in the disciplines that have gotten me through so much--looking for things to be thankful for each day. Choosing joy. Letting my strength come from God, and turning to Him for comfort before anyone or anything else. Because ultimately, only He, the God of comfort, can offer peace.
Keep praying for us!
Here's Molly at her school Art night tonight, and "working out" with me after I got done on the treadmill today!
~Heidi
2-1-17
The tears have come. I knew they would, and I think everyone else knew it too. But I had to get here on my own. You see, because the last 2 weeks I haven’t been sad to be done with the last year. I haven’t been sad to have Drew gone if he was going to be the way he was. Having to endure things no one should have to, let alone the sweetest two year old boy ever. And we knew he’d only have to endure more if he stayed. And we’ve gotten so exhausted. So tired from worrying, of staying focused, of getting him and us through this hard, hard year. And just plain tired! I’ve gotten more full nights of sleep in the last two weeks than I have for a year. So I think we had physical needs to meet, time we needed to just recover from the short term strain.
For a year we’ve had to stay so intensely focused on the short term just to survive. I felt like I didn’t even remember life before cancer. And for the last year, that was good. It would have been so much harder if I did remember “normal” life, and make it harder to do what we needed to do. So I’m thankful that God helped me to stay focused. But now that we are through that, and stepping back into our “old” life, I can remember it again. I DO remember Drew before this whole mess started, and he was such a great little boy! We had such a good thing going. Molly and I and Drew had our classes we went to, our schedule at home, or family walks… And now I can see how sad it is that we lost that. That I can never go back to that again. I’ll never be able to take “them” to the park again, only “her”. I’ll never get to listen to Drew recite songs he learned at CBS like I did Molly, or look at the pictures he drew for me in ECFE class.
I’ve said all along that I could see how much good was coming out of this, but that it was just too bad it was at Drew’s expense. And today, I am crying for that expense. For the price we’ve paid. God has used this ugly mess in so many ways, and today I’ve just realized how ugly this mess is. How sad it really is that such a sweet happy boy, such a “nice” family had to have this happen to them.
And I’m upset that everything has to be weird. That I feel like I have to start over again. I feel like I worked really hard to put it all together in the first place! I did everything the “right” way! And now I have to start over, and this time without my Drew. And I can be sad about that. I feel like I know some of the “why’s” that God allowed this. I know that suffering generates so much more attention , but that doesn’t mean it feels any better. “Faith doesn’t make it easy, it just makes it possible” was something I heard today. And how true that is. It certainly has not been easy, and what I still face won’t be easy, but I can do it through His strength.
And I’m seeing now too, how much this all has cost Molly. Bless her heart, she’s as resilient and strong as her brother, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have wounds from this. I can tell she just can’t get enough of me. She’s so excited to be in a routine again and with me fully present. When I think that Drew was in the hospital for 160 days in the last year with one of us—that means for almost half the year, she was without Josh or I for the most part. And because she handled it so well, because she is such a trooper in her own right, it was easy to think she was okay. But all the clinginess, the talking to me non-stop, the, “what are we going to do today, Mom?”, shows me that she really missed me. Missed us. Missed the way it had been. SHE knew that things had changed and what our life used to be like, because she was still here! How sad what this cost her what she must have felt this year. I am crying today for all that she had to endure. I pray, and ask you to also, that she can get the rest SHE deserves from all this. And that God can help me pick up the pieces from all this in her, and fix the mistakes I’m sure I’m still making.
Romans 8:28: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
He will continue to work things out for our good, because we do love Him. And I believe Him, because I’ve already seen it. This is the “working things out” part I guess. And He will use it for good. We WILL be okay. Because we have been called to this purpose. It has been, and is hard. But I can do hard things, when I have the power of the almighty God behind me!
~Heidi
For a year we’ve had to stay so intensely focused on the short term just to survive. I felt like I didn’t even remember life before cancer. And for the last year, that was good. It would have been so much harder if I did remember “normal” life, and make it harder to do what we needed to do. So I’m thankful that God helped me to stay focused. But now that we are through that, and stepping back into our “old” life, I can remember it again. I DO remember Drew before this whole mess started, and he was such a great little boy! We had such a good thing going. Molly and I and Drew had our classes we went to, our schedule at home, or family walks… And now I can see how sad it is that we lost that. That I can never go back to that again. I’ll never be able to take “them” to the park again, only “her”. I’ll never get to listen to Drew recite songs he learned at CBS like I did Molly, or look at the pictures he drew for me in ECFE class.
I’ve said all along that I could see how much good was coming out of this, but that it was just too bad it was at Drew’s expense. And today, I am crying for that expense. For the price we’ve paid. God has used this ugly mess in so many ways, and today I’ve just realized how ugly this mess is. How sad it really is that such a sweet happy boy, such a “nice” family had to have this happen to them.
And I’m upset that everything has to be weird. That I feel like I have to start over again. I feel like I worked really hard to put it all together in the first place! I did everything the “right” way! And now I have to start over, and this time without my Drew. And I can be sad about that. I feel like I know some of the “why’s” that God allowed this. I know that suffering generates so much more attention , but that doesn’t mean it feels any better. “Faith doesn’t make it easy, it just makes it possible” was something I heard today. And how true that is. It certainly has not been easy, and what I still face won’t be easy, but I can do it through His strength.
And I’m seeing now too, how much this all has cost Molly. Bless her heart, she’s as resilient and strong as her brother, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have wounds from this. I can tell she just can’t get enough of me. She’s so excited to be in a routine again and with me fully present. When I think that Drew was in the hospital for 160 days in the last year with one of us—that means for almost half the year, she was without Josh or I for the most part. And because she handled it so well, because she is such a trooper in her own right, it was easy to think she was okay. But all the clinginess, the talking to me non-stop, the, “what are we going to do today, Mom?”, shows me that she really missed me. Missed us. Missed the way it had been. SHE knew that things had changed and what our life used to be like, because she was still here! How sad what this cost her what she must have felt this year. I am crying today for all that she had to endure. I pray, and ask you to also, that she can get the rest SHE deserves from all this. And that God can help me pick up the pieces from all this in her, and fix the mistakes I’m sure I’m still making.
Romans 8:28: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
He will continue to work things out for our good, because we do love Him. And I believe Him, because I’ve already seen it. This is the “working things out” part I guess. And He will use it for good. We WILL be okay. Because we have been called to this purpose. It has been, and is hard. But I can do hard things, when I have the power of the almighty God behind me!
~Heidi
2-7-17
We are still here. We are making subtle, and not so subtle adjustments to life as we try to get settled in this new reality. We are starting some new things--we joined the Y this week. We have been accepting offers of going out and being social, which has felt good. I have been working on Drew's room. Took down his crib, took clothes out of his drawers, rearranged furniture and got book shelves. It's still a work in progress, but it's a start. I didn't just strip it of him though. I kept his name on the wall, his John Deere equipment, even his green-light alarm clock on the dresser that is now filled with puzzles and games. As I sat in there this morning doing some quiet time alone, it turned green at 7:00AM, time to get up Drewy!
Last week I feel like I turned a corner in this grief process from feeling relieved and probably a little numb, to having it all hit me. What happened in our world, and the sadness for what was lost. The biggest and most obvious everyday is his physical absence. I just miss him so much. I sit in this room and close my eyes, just trying to take myself back to a time when he was here, in this room, with me. When I could hold him, feel him, listen to him and smell him. I want him back. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I can feel how easy it is to totally give in to this pain. To not want to do anything else but nurse the hurt.
But I hear God calling me. Telling me it will be okay. In the first week I've been back into Community Bible Study here in Austin, God has been reminding me of the truths he's taught me this year. Like the story of Peter who got out of the boat and walked on water to meet Jesus, only to start to sink as he took his eyes off of Him. Likewise, I need to keep my eyes fixed on Him. We have done amazing things through Him this year, not so different than walking on water in some ways. But I can not keep going if take my focus off of Him, who gave us the power to get this far in the first place.
I've been saying that Drew's death has felt like childbirth in many ways. First, we were told this would be the way it would end. As strongly as medical staff could tell us. And also by God himself I believe, through bible versus He took me too, and just a painful understanding in my heart. In a way we were "pregnant" with this looming outcome since Halloween. Which I am thankful for in a way. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to savor every day with him. It made the "lasts" more painful, but at least I knew they were the lasts, and could capture them. In my mind and heart, but also in pictures and video. I have a video of him swinging for the last time at our park. We have tons of images of his last Christmas. His last time swimming. Even his last night in his bed, I took several pictures because we had taken the side off and made his crib into a "big boy" bed. God blessed us with these gifts, and I can chose to be thankful for them, and it helps some.
We also had several "false alarms" with Drew leading up to the real event. The biggest right before our trip with the eye infection. I honestly thought all was lost. But we got another 2 weeks, and a magical trip. Then even during the week we was dying we had a couple times he gave us a scare, only to recover. Those times really helped me examine myself--am I ready for this? Do I really believe all I say I do? Will I look to the only One who can truly rely on for strength? Again, I can choose to be thankful that I got several chances to prepare myself.
Then the actual physical process of dying--was remarkably like watching a the process of a birth. And he was laboring, preparing to leave his plagued body to be born into eternal life. We wiped his brow, gave him sips of water, held his hand. Prayed over him, and whispered encouraging things to him. And finally, in a most beautiful and peaceful way, he was born into Eternity. I am so glad for the Grace of God to have opened my eyes to have seen it that way, to see the beauty in it. So glad that if he had to go, I could see him there. I brought him into this world, and I saw him out of it.
Which bring us to now--post partum. In my opinion the worst stage of giving birth. The rollercoaster of emotions, the sadness that everything has changed. The figuring out what to do now, how we are going to operate in this new, unfamiliar place. I struggled after Molly was born. For several months I wondered if I'd ever feel like myself again. And I did. How? I really developed my faith in Jesus. He saw me through that period of my life by teaching me how to pray, to rely on him daily, to trust in the bigger picture, to be thankful. And in the last year with Drew, the Holy Spirit has deepened these tools to not just surviving when life gets tough, but doing great things through Him. So I will continue in these habits. Choosing every day to trust in Him, to be thankful, to pray and ask for strength. I will feel like myself again. We will get better and go on to do great things to further the Kingdom of God. But first I must recharge. Pour out my hurt to the only One who can heal. And he will. Then I will get back up from this, and follow where He leads.
On a housekeeping note, I will soon be moving these posts to a new blogsite. I feel we need to transition this from CaringBridge, which to me is Drew's story, to a new place that will be the home of our story from here on out. So stay tuned! I'll post the link for a couple times once I transfer to it so anyone that wants to continue to follow us can find it.
These are pictures from this weekend where they did a Plunge into the lake to raise funds for cancer research, a team jumped in honor of Drew.
~Heidi
Last week I feel like I turned a corner in this grief process from feeling relieved and probably a little numb, to having it all hit me. What happened in our world, and the sadness for what was lost. The biggest and most obvious everyday is his physical absence. I just miss him so much. I sit in this room and close my eyes, just trying to take myself back to a time when he was here, in this room, with me. When I could hold him, feel him, listen to him and smell him. I want him back. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I can feel how easy it is to totally give in to this pain. To not want to do anything else but nurse the hurt.
But I hear God calling me. Telling me it will be okay. In the first week I've been back into Community Bible Study here in Austin, God has been reminding me of the truths he's taught me this year. Like the story of Peter who got out of the boat and walked on water to meet Jesus, only to start to sink as he took his eyes off of Him. Likewise, I need to keep my eyes fixed on Him. We have done amazing things through Him this year, not so different than walking on water in some ways. But I can not keep going if take my focus off of Him, who gave us the power to get this far in the first place.
I've been saying that Drew's death has felt like childbirth in many ways. First, we were told this would be the way it would end. As strongly as medical staff could tell us. And also by God himself I believe, through bible versus He took me too, and just a painful understanding in my heart. In a way we were "pregnant" with this looming outcome since Halloween. Which I am thankful for in a way. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to savor every day with him. It made the "lasts" more painful, but at least I knew they were the lasts, and could capture them. In my mind and heart, but also in pictures and video. I have a video of him swinging for the last time at our park. We have tons of images of his last Christmas. His last time swimming. Even his last night in his bed, I took several pictures because we had taken the side off and made his crib into a "big boy" bed. God blessed us with these gifts, and I can chose to be thankful for them, and it helps some.
We also had several "false alarms" with Drew leading up to the real event. The biggest right before our trip with the eye infection. I honestly thought all was lost. But we got another 2 weeks, and a magical trip. Then even during the week we was dying we had a couple times he gave us a scare, only to recover. Those times really helped me examine myself--am I ready for this? Do I really believe all I say I do? Will I look to the only One who can truly rely on for strength? Again, I can choose to be thankful that I got several chances to prepare myself.
Then the actual physical process of dying--was remarkably like watching a the process of a birth. And he was laboring, preparing to leave his plagued body to be born into eternal life. We wiped his brow, gave him sips of water, held his hand. Prayed over him, and whispered encouraging things to him. And finally, in a most beautiful and peaceful way, he was born into Eternity. I am so glad for the Grace of God to have opened my eyes to have seen it that way, to see the beauty in it. So glad that if he had to go, I could see him there. I brought him into this world, and I saw him out of it.
Which bring us to now--post partum. In my opinion the worst stage of giving birth. The rollercoaster of emotions, the sadness that everything has changed. The figuring out what to do now, how we are going to operate in this new, unfamiliar place. I struggled after Molly was born. For several months I wondered if I'd ever feel like myself again. And I did. How? I really developed my faith in Jesus. He saw me through that period of my life by teaching me how to pray, to rely on him daily, to trust in the bigger picture, to be thankful. And in the last year with Drew, the Holy Spirit has deepened these tools to not just surviving when life gets tough, but doing great things through Him. So I will continue in these habits. Choosing every day to trust in Him, to be thankful, to pray and ask for strength. I will feel like myself again. We will get better and go on to do great things to further the Kingdom of God. But first I must recharge. Pour out my hurt to the only One who can heal. And he will. Then I will get back up from this, and follow where He leads.
On a housekeeping note, I will soon be moving these posts to a new blogsite. I feel we need to transition this from CaringBridge, which to me is Drew's story, to a new place that will be the home of our story from here on out. So stay tuned! I'll post the link for a couple times once I transfer to it so anyone that wants to continue to follow us can find it.
These are pictures from this weekend where they did a Plunge into the lake to raise funds for cancer research, a team jumped in honor of Drew.
~Heidi
2-13-17
We've managed to be pretty productive this last week! First, we wanted to do something with some of the memorial money to give back right away. So we ordered some push cars, shopping carts, wooden puzzles, and John Deere tapes to donate to hospital. I arranged to deliver them this Saturday. We are looking forward to it! Then we also are working on getting a project together where we give each new pediatric cancer family a collapsible wagon that we used so much last year filled with other things we found useful and comforting. We've asked some businesses and companies for donations to the cause, and have been wonderfully surprised by the immediate response and interest by some to help! It's great to feel like we are doing something to give back.
This weekend we went to Josh's parents for a visit. I knew it would be hard. Just like all the "firsts" will be. There were some tears, some blaring reminders that little brother wasn't with us physically anymore. But we enjoyed ourselves too. We went to eat, walked out by the still frozen lake, got ice cream and watched the ISU basketball game. It seemed like a good representation of how things are going--reminders at every turn of the shift in our lives, but through the Grace of God we can still choose joy.
Overall it seems that every day is different. Some days I really, really, miss Drew. And that's all I can think about. Folding clothes and missing that 4th pile. Not having to buckle anyone into the car when we get ready to leave. The garbage not filling up nearly as fast without all his medical care debris or diapers. And of course the absence of another little voice mingling with Molly's and mine. Only one "Mom!" instead of two. If I really dwell on it, I can feel it hurt deep in my heart. It's hard. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. And I'm sorry I know so many that have had to endure it.
Then the next day I'll really feel bad for Molly. Like today, she and I are working on her Valentines. I was trying to remember what we did for her Valentines last year, and I can't remember. I really think we probably didn't do anything. I know that Drew had a sky-high hemoglobin count of 17 (crazy, crazy), but I know Molly would have started preschool, did she go without Valentines? I hope she didn't. I hope she wasn't sad. How much she handled last year, and how I took for granted how strong she is too! And she is still so strong. Everyone's asking me how she is too, and I really think she is okay at the moment. Happy to be back into a routine, catching up on sleep and our expectations around here, soaking in all of my attention. But every now and then she'll ask about Drew, or say something about him. "Remember when Drew and I banged on the bowl like a drum with carrot sticks?". Yes I do baby girl. I wish he was here to bang on them with you again!
Then there'll be a day I feel so out of place here in the day-to-day of Austin. I am meeting friends that have months-old babies that I didn't even know were pregnant. I think someone "just" moved back to Austin when it was really last Summer. I'm still adjusting back to normal life. And I hate adjustments. I miss the hospital, my friends there. The nurses I had my inside jokes with, the child phycologist, the service team, even the housekeeper! I think it just as much that I miss the familiar. I was an "expert" there, here I am starting over again. Without my Drew. And its frustrating, and kind of lonely.
There is one thing that is the same each day. I am never sad FOR Drew. I am not sitting in his room wondering if he's alone, if he's scared. If he wonders why I didn't save him. I know that he feels amazing. That he is charming the pants off a new set of people, including Jesus. That he still has that million dollar smile and joy that I feel so empty without. I am so thankful for that peace. For that promise that death never will win. We may have not have won our battle, but Jesus has won the war already. And that gives me reason to praise God, and be thankful.
I am going to register for another half marathon I think (I've done a couple in the past). There is one that is in Rochester and actually includes some of the trials I ran when I was there with Drew. It's Memorial Weekend, so I have some time to train, and I think the running will be therapeutic. Its a release when I don't feel like crying. I am a music listener when I run, and the last song this morning really got me. "In Christ Alone" I have always loved, but like everything, touches a new place now. Here are the lyrics that seem to summarize why we can still chose Joy, even though we are so fiercely missing our Drew:
This weekend we went to Josh's parents for a visit. I knew it would be hard. Just like all the "firsts" will be. There were some tears, some blaring reminders that little brother wasn't with us physically anymore. But we enjoyed ourselves too. We went to eat, walked out by the still frozen lake, got ice cream and watched the ISU basketball game. It seemed like a good representation of how things are going--reminders at every turn of the shift in our lives, but through the Grace of God we can still choose joy.
Overall it seems that every day is different. Some days I really, really, miss Drew. And that's all I can think about. Folding clothes and missing that 4th pile. Not having to buckle anyone into the car when we get ready to leave. The garbage not filling up nearly as fast without all his medical care debris or diapers. And of course the absence of another little voice mingling with Molly's and mine. Only one "Mom!" instead of two. If I really dwell on it, I can feel it hurt deep in my heart. It's hard. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. And I'm sorry I know so many that have had to endure it.
Then the next day I'll really feel bad for Molly. Like today, she and I are working on her Valentines. I was trying to remember what we did for her Valentines last year, and I can't remember. I really think we probably didn't do anything. I know that Drew had a sky-high hemoglobin count of 17 (crazy, crazy), but I know Molly would have started preschool, did she go without Valentines? I hope she didn't. I hope she wasn't sad. How much she handled last year, and how I took for granted how strong she is too! And she is still so strong. Everyone's asking me how she is too, and I really think she is okay at the moment. Happy to be back into a routine, catching up on sleep and our expectations around here, soaking in all of my attention. But every now and then she'll ask about Drew, or say something about him. "Remember when Drew and I banged on the bowl like a drum with carrot sticks?". Yes I do baby girl. I wish he was here to bang on them with you again!
Then there'll be a day I feel so out of place here in the day-to-day of Austin. I am meeting friends that have months-old babies that I didn't even know were pregnant. I think someone "just" moved back to Austin when it was really last Summer. I'm still adjusting back to normal life. And I hate adjustments. I miss the hospital, my friends there. The nurses I had my inside jokes with, the child phycologist, the service team, even the housekeeper! I think it just as much that I miss the familiar. I was an "expert" there, here I am starting over again. Without my Drew. And its frustrating, and kind of lonely.
There is one thing that is the same each day. I am never sad FOR Drew. I am not sitting in his room wondering if he's alone, if he's scared. If he wonders why I didn't save him. I know that he feels amazing. That he is charming the pants off a new set of people, including Jesus. That he still has that million dollar smile and joy that I feel so empty without. I am so thankful for that peace. For that promise that death never will win. We may have not have won our battle, but Jesus has won the war already. And that gives me reason to praise God, and be thankful.
I am going to register for another half marathon I think (I've done a couple in the past). There is one that is in Rochester and actually includes some of the trials I ran when I was there with Drew. It's Memorial Weekend, so I have some time to train, and I think the running will be therapeutic. Its a release when I don't feel like crying. I am a music listener when I run, and the last song this morning really got me. "In Christ Alone" I have always loved, but like everything, touches a new place now. Here are the lyrics that seem to summarize why we can still chose Joy, even though we are so fiercely missing our Drew:
"In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand
No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand"
It's only in the love of Christ, and by the power of Christ, that we can be standing right now. That I can make heart cookies, go to the grocery store, run 5 miles...It may be with a deep ache in our hearts, and with tears streaming down our face at times, but through Him and His strength, we will make it through this storm.
~Heidi
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand
No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand"
It's only in the love of Christ, and by the power of Christ, that we can be standing right now. That I can make heart cookies, go to the grocery store, run 5 miles...It may be with a deep ache in our hearts, and with tears streaming down our face at times, but through Him and His strength, we will make it through this storm.
~Heidi
2/19/17
One month ago, I was holding his hand. One month ago I kissed his warm head, smelled his skin, sang him his favorite songs, prayed for him, and listened to him breathe. It was several hours where that was all we did, watch and listen to him breathe. Until he didn't anymore. And we knew he was free. In the very presence of God. Seeing the glory that the Bible tells us we can not handle and live on earth. I have no doubt hearing Jesus say to him, "we'll done", and receiving the miracle we all prayed so hard for--complete healing of the cancer.
I remember looking out the window, watching doctors, nurses, and patients walking through hallways, going about their normal Thursdays. Unaware that my baby just died. And truly, the whole world just kept going that afternoon, that hour. But we didn't. We have never been the same. And we shouldn't be. I lost a part of me a month ago, a piece of my heart.
The day before he died, he talked a lot. He had the most energy we'd seen for days, and was telling us all the things he was seeing. Rockets, a swimming pool, tractors, and even Santa! The doctors explained the hallucinations were due to his brain not receiving proper oxygen for so many days. And I'm sure that is true. But as I watched his face light up, him point and say, "Wow Mom, look at that!!" And, "I wanna drive THAT one!", I just knew God was giving me a gift. Letting me see a preview of the wonder and awe my boy would soon be overwhelmed by. I sat all morning with him, and just kept saying, "I wish I could see it too, buddy". Someday I will. Someday he'll take me by the hand and excitedly show me all the amazing things in Heaven. I can't wait.
I don't know how long a month feels like in Heaven. I imagine like a split second--I hope so! But here on earth, it feels like forever. Forever since I've heard his voice, felt his weight in my arms, and watched him play. It feels like forever as I think of how long I still have to wait before I can see him again. The only comfort is that when I do get to hold him, kiss him, play with him again, it won't just feel like forever, it WILL be for forever. What a glorious day that will be!
In the mean time, we have our own purposes to fulfill. We must, or we'd be in Heaven too. And by the continued strength and peace of God, we've been working on it. Yesterday we took our lot of toys and things to the hospital. I didn't know how I would feel back at St Mary's. But it actually felt really good. Seeing familiar faces, and the joy some of our gifts instantly brought to some kids, was wonderful. No doubt Drew was excited to see the happiness being experienced. I want to make clear this was made possible through all the generousity showed to us by you all, in Drew's honor. We are merely the "middle man". And we thank you all for allowing us this honor. The news as there, and did this story on us:
http://www.kaaltv.com/news/family-honoring-sons-memory-by-giving-back-to-pediatric-patients-at-st-marys-hospital/4404198/
Our wagon project is coming along too. We have a name, Warrior Wagons. The name Drew means Warrior, and given to kids fighting cancer, Warriors, the name seems perfect. We have a Facebook page now, and a logo! Through donations and gifts, we are almost prepared to get the final red tape worked out so we can begin to distribute wagons as new families unfortunately begin their journey with pediatric cancer. It is a humbling, sobering, task to think of offering aid to these families as they begin a tough journey with uncertain outcomes. But we feel called to do it. The resources, information and wisdom we now possess came at the cost of our precious son's life. We must do the most we can with it.
My new blog site is coming along as well. Look for the link really soon on here, and begin following me there!
And daily we continue to move through our grief. Some days are easier than others. Feelings continue to fluctuate. I can see the lies the enemy is trying to feed me. Trying to stir up doubt, and guilt. Was there really nothing we could have done? Maybe I should have told him he was going to die...Why didn't I hold him more? But with the help of the Holy Spirit's wisdom, I don't get too far into those thoughts before I see them for the lies they are. And am aware of the hopes of the powers of darkness--to silence me, to bring me down, to steal my joy. But I was a witness to the amazing power God gives to overcome circumstances in a happy little two year old, and I will overcome with that same power. We will continue to be thankful, choose joy, and turn to God for the strength to continue to heal and adjust to our life post-Drew's earthly life together.
Continue to pray for us! Here's pictures from the week. Molly and I enjoying a Shamrock Shake, and at the library. Also a project I've been working on with plates we made Drew's handprints on that final week, and all the toys in the van ready to donate. I also found this great saying on a sign at the framing store. You only need one life if you do it right. And in Drew's case, not even 3 years!
~Heidi
I remember looking out the window, watching doctors, nurses, and patients walking through hallways, going about their normal Thursdays. Unaware that my baby just died. And truly, the whole world just kept going that afternoon, that hour. But we didn't. We have never been the same. And we shouldn't be. I lost a part of me a month ago, a piece of my heart.
The day before he died, he talked a lot. He had the most energy we'd seen for days, and was telling us all the things he was seeing. Rockets, a swimming pool, tractors, and even Santa! The doctors explained the hallucinations were due to his brain not receiving proper oxygen for so many days. And I'm sure that is true. But as I watched his face light up, him point and say, "Wow Mom, look at that!!" And, "I wanna drive THAT one!", I just knew God was giving me a gift. Letting me see a preview of the wonder and awe my boy would soon be overwhelmed by. I sat all morning with him, and just kept saying, "I wish I could see it too, buddy". Someday I will. Someday he'll take me by the hand and excitedly show me all the amazing things in Heaven. I can't wait.
I don't know how long a month feels like in Heaven. I imagine like a split second--I hope so! But here on earth, it feels like forever. Forever since I've heard his voice, felt his weight in my arms, and watched him play. It feels like forever as I think of how long I still have to wait before I can see him again. The only comfort is that when I do get to hold him, kiss him, play with him again, it won't just feel like forever, it WILL be for forever. What a glorious day that will be!
In the mean time, we have our own purposes to fulfill. We must, or we'd be in Heaven too. And by the continued strength and peace of God, we've been working on it. Yesterday we took our lot of toys and things to the hospital. I didn't know how I would feel back at St Mary's. But it actually felt really good. Seeing familiar faces, and the joy some of our gifts instantly brought to some kids, was wonderful. No doubt Drew was excited to see the happiness being experienced. I want to make clear this was made possible through all the generousity showed to us by you all, in Drew's honor. We are merely the "middle man". And we thank you all for allowing us this honor. The news as there, and did this story on us:
http://www.kaaltv.com/news/family-honoring-sons-memory-by-giving-back-to-pediatric-patients-at-st-marys-hospital/4404198/
Our wagon project is coming along too. We have a name, Warrior Wagons. The name Drew means Warrior, and given to kids fighting cancer, Warriors, the name seems perfect. We have a Facebook page now, and a logo! Through donations and gifts, we are almost prepared to get the final red tape worked out so we can begin to distribute wagons as new families unfortunately begin their journey with pediatric cancer. It is a humbling, sobering, task to think of offering aid to these families as they begin a tough journey with uncertain outcomes. But we feel called to do it. The resources, information and wisdom we now possess came at the cost of our precious son's life. We must do the most we can with it.
My new blog site is coming along as well. Look for the link really soon on here, and begin following me there!
And daily we continue to move through our grief. Some days are easier than others. Feelings continue to fluctuate. I can see the lies the enemy is trying to feed me. Trying to stir up doubt, and guilt. Was there really nothing we could have done? Maybe I should have told him he was going to die...Why didn't I hold him more? But with the help of the Holy Spirit's wisdom, I don't get too far into those thoughts before I see them for the lies they are. And am aware of the hopes of the powers of darkness--to silence me, to bring me down, to steal my joy. But I was a witness to the amazing power God gives to overcome circumstances in a happy little two year old, and I will overcome with that same power. We will continue to be thankful, choose joy, and turn to God for the strength to continue to heal and adjust to our life post-Drew's earthly life together.
Continue to pray for us! Here's pictures from the week. Molly and I enjoying a Shamrock Shake, and at the library. Also a project I've been working on with plates we made Drew's handprints on that final week, and all the toys in the van ready to donate. I also found this great saying on a sign at the framing store. You only need one life if you do it right. And in Drew's case, not even 3 years!
~Heidi
2/23/17
Okay everyone, the day has come! I just published my entry into the new blog! Here is the link:
http://drawingfromdrew.blogspot.com/
I hope you all find your way there. Caringbridge has been a wonderful way to keep everyone updated on what was happening with Drew, and also a place where I really started to share my feelings and thoughts in a whole new way. I never thought anyone would ever consider me a writer, I'm a math and science type girl! But what it shows me, is that God's power really is perfected in our weaknesses. So I will continue to let God use me in this unexpected way, as I write on this new site.
So let me know in the comments if you can't find the new site, but hopefully its pretty straight forward. I may post on here one more time to direct people to the new place when I write again, just to make sure everyone has gotten there that wants to.
Thank you so much for following us, for you encouragement and kind words on here, and of course your prayers! Please keep them coming!
See you on the new page!
~Heidi
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