A New Normal

Molly got the new bed she was promised–a Queen size–that she’s super pumped about. (she changed her mind from bunk beds to a “big” bed) We still have some furniture being delivered after Thanksgiving on the main level, but my hope is we’ll be done with the “setting up house” part soon after.

But as the adrenaline starts to wear off, as we are getting settled in and the excitement of the last 6 weeks dies down, reality is settling in too. We are beginning to see our new normal take shape, and with it comes the things that unfortunately are a part of “normal”, at least in our lives. The now-familiar grief that will always be with us, is setting up shop too. In some familiar ways, but also through the new.

Holidays or anniversaries are one of those “familiar” ways.  I’ve come to expect the hard feelings to be more intense during important days. But the first holiday here in Illinois–Halloween– kind of snuck up on me. We had a lot of fun, but as usual in this post-Drew life, sadness and missing came along too and I had my first bout of grief here.

Halloween was tough for me last year as I relived the intense feelings that hit us the year before about this time. It was when we received the terminal prognosis following a bad scan–something I wish no parent ever had to hear concerning their child. It was a hard holiday for me as those dark feelings came back to haunt me, for an appropriate way to put it.

This year though, I had all that from the past on my mind again, but also felt a more intense regret over Molly’s present too. We had several fun events to check out in our new home here–swimming with pumpkins, a Halloween tree and light show to see, and big box stores that had festive activities.

It just killed me to see her alone, with no other kid to share in the excitement and joy. It know it’s so much better to experience these moments with another kid, than to be with only adults (however eager we try to be). This year, we not only missed Drew’s presence but were painfully aware of his absence too.

The grief is settling in, filtering back into, the everyday too. With new furniture arriving, our old ones are being placed out on the curb. It was fun to go shopping for a new couch, a dining room table, ect., but to see the old ones that are being replaced out there on the curb, has been harder than I thought.

These pieces were the settings for so many of our memories with Drew, and we’re just discarding them with the trash? Now we’re in a whole new home, with almost all new furniture. Is it just out with the old, in with the new? How have we just moved on in not even two years? How will I remember him when so much has changed? The questions trouble my heart, even if my mind knows better.

I got some answers to some of these questions though, when I was outside doing some yard work last week. It was forecasted to snow the next day here, so there was a feeling of urgency to get the leaves picked up while it was still fairly warm. It reminded me of two years ago…

I could hardly watch, dreading what would “probably” happen to him next, the injustice and tragdy of it all. But I did, with help from Above, and I felt an unexplainable peace. It all was going so well that I just kept putting on lights! I strung lights around almost every bush in our front yard while he played.

As I both smiled and cried while I raked my front lawn of our new home in Illinois last week thinking about that afternoon/evening two years ago back in Austin–it donned on me, or the Sprit showed me. I could almost hear, “See? you don’t have to have a house, or a certain couch to remember Drew by. How silly to believe that!” The memories I have really will be with me and bring him to life in my heart whenever I want, no matter where life takes me. What a relief and comfort!

And it really is true. I had another example a few days later. It was time for a car wash. As Molly and I pulled in and the foam started collecting on our windshield–Molly said out loud what we both were thinking about. “Remember how much Drew hated car washes?” Yes, I was thinking about that too Molly. I was remembering how he’d say he wanted to, agree with Molly’s chants to go through the car wash, then he’d legit freak out inside. He’d really be terrified, yet seemed to forget (or enjoyed the thrill) every time when he’d ask to do it again. It became a thing that all of us teased him about.

Josh used to send us pictures at the hospital with the instruction to “show Drew” what he was up to at home–going through the car wash:

Yes, going through the car wash will always make us remember Drew, as it did last Sunday.

So as our new normal falls into place, it includes the things that are uniquely normal to our family. So much has changed, but much remains the same. On holidays and in the everyday, we miss our Drew. And despite all the changes, I am rest assured. We aren’t forgetting Drew. The grief, which is such a constant, IS us remember him. Through and in our actions or events, his memory will be in our hearts forever. They aren’t tied to a place or a piece of furniture, but is kept safe and resurfaces just when we need them.  And God is faithful through it all.