...and Another Year

It has been another year.

The visits to this blog have tapered off, especially since the new blogs – for the grandkids – have gobs of traffic and funny pictures and a few tears and lots of laughs, as young families renew the cycle of life. Go there for fun.

Our perspective on the past year – our second year without Drew – is right out of the textbooks. The second year is harder.

The first year was a continuous set of challenges – yes, devastation, disbelief, poor sleep, anger, and all the other expected emotions and reactions. We were also busy with the process of loss. We had projects to handle, details to close out. We had people to tell and so many firsts to experience. We could plan the grief and the memories and the organized remembrances. We said a million thank-you’s, handled a million awkward conversations, and did things differently in a million little ways, inspired by Drew’s spirited approach to life. We finished the room, the memorial, the cleanup (ok, we have a closet left – we will get to it soon). We made a million decisions that first year.

The second year was no longer about first experiences. We returned to work, returned to regimen, returned to our dynamic family calendar. We experienced for the first time how it’s going to be from now on.

We continue to get those painful moments, which we discuss days later, at a quiet moment:
- when mail comes for Drew offering the “deal of a lifetime”.
- when the young man in the grocery store that passes you in the isle looking so much like Drew that your heart stops beating for a few seconds.
-when someone asks about your kids who doesn’t still doesn’t know. Or forgot.

We have well-used tear ducts. Once or twice a day seems like the average for wiping a few tears. We’ve noticed that long drives alone are hard, since the think time always shifts to favorite trips, favorite songs, favorite stories, and Drew was a fourth of all of them. We go to the Y and sit on the benches and watch the grandkids run around on weekends. We cried at a graduation and three weddings – at what might have been.

We have changed, and we aren’t always happy with the new “us”. We won’t change back, I would wager, but the new “us” isn’t too bad. We hope.

Some things are going great. Our three grandkids are amazing. Westbrook’s love for laughter comes from both his parents, and his big smile will surely get him the same advantages his uncles get from theirs - a bright-eyed boy who says “Hi, Suppie – Hi, Gam” even when only one of us is in the room. Dylan is brave – a tall sliding board is no match for him – and he mimics his hard-working parents with lengthy work sessions with his Lego blocks. Llandis smiles constantly as she sits in our laps watching the keyboards click and grabbing the phone cord as she explores a world that soon will be much larger when she conquers crawling any day. Grandkids are wonderful.

Ben is visiting friends in Australia after a good school year and a successful season of rugby. Mary and Wade love parenting but could use a little more sleep. Melissa and Dan played the housing market to perfection and are enjoying Cary and frequent visits at either end of I-85. Jordan graduated and keeps in touch like another daughter. Everyone is working hard – maybe too hard.

We had more family events than ever – we hope that is a permanent change, too. First and second birthdays are always fun, and 53rd birthdays could be worse. Our blood drive on February 13th was fulfilling (no pun intended). We have put more donations in the blood bank than Drew took out, and he took out a lot. They still need more – please keep giving.

We close the year with closer friends, closer family, bright-eyed toddlers, jobs which keep us fed, and no new hospital bracelets.

Year three is supposed to be easier.

Jane and Boxley