Monday, September 28, 2009Tonight's picture features Mattie on his first bicycle with training wheels. It was a very exciting day for him. At first he was cautious but once he got the hang of it, he was impossible to keep up with him. I think the smile on his face says it all!
Poem of the day (Thank you Kristi!):
Into My Heart by Garnett Ann Schultz
You tiptoed right into my heart; I knew I loved you from the start - That tiny hand, that baby face, A world of filigree and lace. Your smile, your voice, so sweet and dear, You filled my world with endless cheer. You own my heart, dear little one, You fill my world with endless fun. Togetherness, each hug, each kiss - 'Tis all of these I wouldn't miss. I love the time I tuck you in, The mornings when our days begin. Dear little boy, you'll always be The whole wide world and all to me. I'm thankfull for each hour we spend And all the happiness you lend. It matters not when we're apart, You'll always live within my heart.
Today in general is a reflective day for me. September 28, was my grandmother’s birthday. She would have been 92 years old today. My maternal grandmother, as many of you now know after reading the blog, was a vital person in my life. When her husband died of colon cancer, my parents had her move in with them. So as I was growing up, a multigenerational household seemed the norm from my perspective. It was only later in life that I realized how fortunate I was to have this family dynamic. My grandmother and I did a lot together and we were very close. She helped teach me how to cook, take care of a household, care for animals, become a caring and compassionate person, and the list goes on. I remember from an early age however being afraid that she would die one day, and I wouldn’t have her in my life. I was blessed in the sense that I had my grandmother through my college years, but her death was traumatic for my family, so much so, that I ended up having to research strokes and the stresses associated with family caregiving in graduate school. It always saddened me that my grandmother died before my wedding and also never met Mattie. It is my greatest hope though that my grandmother found Mattie in heaven and is now taking good care of him, like she always did with me.
After experiencing yesterday’s car seat incident, I somehow felt empowered to begin tackling funeral plans today, such as finding a caterer for the reception. This was something I just couldn’t come to grips with even a couple of days ago. But in true Mattie fashion, I felt the symbolism of the flat car seat was telling me, “don’t give up….just go on.” This is a line Mattie and I used on each other ALL the time. We actually picked it up from watching a Blues Clues episode together, and something about it just rang true to us. So whenever Mattie was down, or unsure of how he would address and handle a situation, I would always say, “don’t give up….just go on.” It was always very sweet however, when I would watch him empathize with me and use this same line on me. Not surprising since Mattie observed and ABSORBED everything.
I connected with a handful of caterers today, but the woman who caught my attention, not only called me back first thing this morning, but she had a lengthy conversation with me about Mattie. She told me her husband is a physician and her daughter is studying medicine at the George Washington University. So we had a lot in common, and she was first and foremost sympathetic and I felt she really wanted to plan the best possible event for us. I certainly have been through enough emotionally, and I need people in my life now who get this immediately. I felt as if Susan did today.
Later in the afternoon, I wound up picking up tea at Starbuck’s. While there, I noticed the lady behind the counter was staring at me. Not me exactly, but my necklace. She found it stunning and fascinating. Absolutely! I couldn’t agree more. I told her Mattie created it. I did not tell her he had cancer and died though, since I figured that would be a lot to throw at a person over a two second conversation. Nonetheless, I was very touched by her observations, and somehow I felt for just a moment today that the essence of Mattie was captured and remembered.
As for an update on Ann’s dad, he continues to decline, and last night for the first time he asked Ann to leave the room. This is not something he would normally ask, since he is quite devoted and connected to his daughter, but his insistence made me pause. I have always read that sometimes a person refuses to die with a loved one present in the room, so I thought maybe he was trying to indirectly tell her something. It is amazing how I have come to look for any sort of clues to help understand death and the dying process. Though I thought Sully was giving Ann a clue yesterday, clearly I was mistaken, since he is with us today. However, a part of me can’t wonder if he is preparing her. When Ann and I left the assisted living facility last night, we both observed a black cat crossing the road. I immediately blurted out, “this is not a good sign.” When I am tired, all sorts of things can come out of my mouth. However, I felt the same premonition when Super Red (Mattie’s fish) died in a 24-hour period. I took that as a sign that Mattie was going to die as well. Unfortunately I was right. Naturally my mind then made the connection between the black cat and Sully. I am sure my readers are really wondering about me, between the car seat story yesterday and the black cat story today. I know I wonder about myself too, since I was never a superstitious individual before Mattie’s death. I think experiencing death in such a profound way has made me more open and aware of things around me. Things I would have been closed off to before. In either case, even in Mattie’s death I am learning about life, myself, and our deep love and admiration for our son.
I want to close tonight's blog with two messages I received:
Dr. Kristen Snyder (Mattie's Oncologist) wrote, "It hardly seems believable to me that another Monday has come. As I read the blog this morning, I was struck by Vicki's story of her passenger car seat. I believe there are angels among us. And I think Mattie is one of them. Somehow, I feel like Mattie wants to talk to you. He wants you to know he is okay. But he must be missing you as well. How could he not be missing you? Maybe this was his way of saying "I'm thinking of you Mom and Dad. I just want you to know that." I would like to come by and talk. I know you are busy with Ann's parents and plans for Mattie's Celebration of Life...but I feel a strong desire to sit with you and listen or maybe just sit with you in general. As a physician, when we lose a patient, many times, we lose the connection to the families as well. Your connection, is one that I won't easily lose. But right now, understand this is your time and to see you would be purely on your terms. If it were something you had time for (both physical time and emotional time as well)... maybe I could help a little with folding papers or the like. Let me know what you think."
Charlie wrote, "It is natural that everything will remind you of Mattie and all you shared. He was a central part of your life; he gave direction to your hopes and dreams for the future. Acknowledge what you can and what you cannot feel now, and realize that each person's grieving is different. You see Peter as ahead of you on the path to dealing with Mattie's death; this is a long path and there may be points where you have to help him rather than the other way around. What you have taken on with Mattie's services is so difficultbut so necessary for you and for all of us who grieve as well. I believe Mattie found a way to reach you, to let you know his spirit lives on and I find much to celebrate in that. For today, where you can, lean on someone else for strength." Charlie also sent along a prayer, which I found helpful:
In Memory of a Child (adapted from the High Holy Days Prayer Book for Jewish Personnel in the Armed Services)I remember thee in this solemn hour, my beloved child. I remember the days, when I watched thy physical and mental unfolding, and fostered beautiful hopes for thy future. The Lord has taken thee from me, yet in my heart, the fond remembrance of thee can never die. The Lord has called thee into his presence, the Lord's love is my solace, my staff and my support. As a parent cares for his children so may the Lord look with compassion upon thee and grant thee eternal bliss. Amen.
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