Friday, October 9, 2009

Friday, October 9, 2009

This picture features one of Mattie's larger creations, "Dr. Crazyhair." Those of you coming to Mattie's reception tomorrow, will get to see this doctor up close and personal. Dr. Crazyhair has things in his pockets too (for example a larger oyster shell, representing a big toe nail). But this sculpture became a vital part of our world toward the end of Mattie's life, because Dr. Crazyhair would guard Mattie's hospital door in the PICU preventing visitors from coming in. It was effective in a humorous way!

Poem of the day (Thanks Kristi!): I Lost My Child Today

I lost my child today

People came to weep and cry

As I just sat and stared, dry eyed

They struggled to find words to say

To try and make the pain go away

I walked the floor in disbelief

I lost my child today.

I lost my child last month

Most of the people went away

Some still call and some still stay

I wait to wake up from this dream

This can't be real, I want to scream

Yet everything is locked inside

God, help me, I want to die

I lost my child last month.

I lost my child last year

Now people who had come, have gone

I sit and struggle all day long

To bear the pain so deep inside

And now my friends just question Why?

Why does this family not move on?

Just sits and sings the same old song

Good heavens, it has been so long

I lost my child last year.

Time has not moved on for me

The numbness it has disappeared

My eyes have now cried many tears

I see the look upon your face

"They must move on and leave this place"

Yet I am trapped right here in time

The songs the same, as is the rhyme I lost my child.........Today.

With a heavy heart, as if my heart couldn't get heavier, I am saddened to report that Sammie and Emma, two beautiful girls with Osteosarcoma on the West coast, lost their battle today. I have followed Sammie and Emma's progress for months now, and when one child with this disease is stricken down, the whole Osteo community feels the after shocks. I have attached links to their caringbridge sites, so that you can learn more about these remarkable children who were taken from this earth way too soon.

www.caringbridge.org/visit/sammiehartsfield

www.caringbridge.org/visit/emmakoertzen

Peter did a lot of running around and logistical things today for the reception tomorrow. He met with Olivia and Tamra, who I can't thank enough for all their help, creativity, and passion they are putting into Mattie's event. We could never do this without Team Mattie's support. I had the opportunity to go out to lunch with my parents, and we talked about so many things. Of course, mostly Mattie! We are all trying to prepare ourselves for tomorrow, a day that took a month to plan, and yet will be over in a matter of hours. In a way, I don't want to miss one single word that people tell me about Mattie. I cling to these words and sentiments. Because in all reality, this is all I have left.

Later today I went to visit Mary, Ann's mom. I sat with her while she had dinner and I heard about her day and all the wonderful visitors who came by to see her. After Mary had dinner, we went to sit outside on the porch. It is a lovely weather day in Washington, DC, and I am so happy Mary wanted to sit outside and get some fresh air. I can truly appreciate just sitting and talking now, something that I may have taken for granted prior to Mattie's illness. But connecting with others on a deeper level inspires me and breathes life into me. Mary told me one of the hardest things about losing a loved one, is thinking about how you are going to spend your days without that person. There is so much truth to that. When you have a child, there is a schedule you follow. Now I find there is nothing connecting or grounding me to anything. It is unsettling, but when Mary mentioned this, I immediately understood and related.

This evening while Peter and I were preparing for tomorrow, chatting about what we will be saying, and reviewing the timeline of events, we heard a crashing sound come from the kitchen. Peter walked in the kitchen and was stunned. He found one of Mattie's rubber balls on the floor. This ball has a flickering light inside of it, so when it hit the floor it was glowing. We have NO idea where the ball came from, why the ball crashed on the floor, or why it was flashing at us. All I could say is that "Mooshi was here" and was trying to tell us something. How eerie to get this sign, while preparing for Mattie's funeral. I am sorry, but I do not think this is coincidence! Mattie is sending us messages through the world around us. Or at least this is what I want to believe.

Thank you all for the lovely e-mails and cards you have sent Peter and I! We look forward to seeing many of you tomorrow, and I realize for those of you who can't be with us, you are with us in spirit! I would like to end tonight's posting with four messages.

The first message I received from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "One line especially struck me from the blog, "come to peace with this." I can't imagine how you are supposed to come to peace with a tragedy no parent should ever have to face. Vicki, however you find the strength to get through the early days of this, is correct. There is no one way to grieve, no one right way to feel.Sometimes our brains know what our hearts refuse to admit, that our pain is so overwhelming, that if given voice, would overwhelm us and the tears would not stop. I think this may be where you are; when you sense it is "safe" to grieve, that you can somehow call an end to the tears, even if only for a while, I think they will flow. And if not, unshed tears are as much a marker of grief as those which flow freely. You and Peter just need to respect each others' responses to this tragedy and support each other as best you can. I thank you for reaching out in your pain to Ann and Mary, I send thanks to all who are helping to put Saturday's service together and for today I wish you and Peter a space of time to remember what brought you together in happiness even while you have to deal with sadness."

The second message is from one of colleagues. Melissa wrote, "I so wish I could be in DC for Mattie's funeral and celebration of life reception. I wish I could be there first and foremost to show you and Peter my love and support and how much I care for you, but also because I know it would be a tremendous experience for ME as I continue to try to cope with the reality of Mattie's passing and how it has profoundly affected me. Unfortunately, a trip to DC is just not going to be possible. When I finally accepted that, I began to think about how I could somehow participate in the service from a distance. I'm not sure all that will be involved in that for me, but I do know that my family and I will be getting balloons and at 4:45pm here in IL (5:45pm DC time), we will join you and your friends and family in in the balloon release for Mattie. How I wish the whole world would stop at that moment to join us in celebrating, honoring and remembering Mattie! I expect that you have had many moments where you wish the whole world would stop to acknowledge with you the pain and loss of Mattie's death--that it seems somehow unfair or insensitive or just plain cruel that the world could go on with it's usual things when your precious child has died. Though the whole world won't stop, I just wanted you to know that someone outside of all of the amazing people who are present to support you and honor Mattie at the services on Saturday, will be STOPPING to think about Mattie and to pray for you."

The third message is from one of my former students. Betsy wrote, "When my dad was fighting cancer it wasn't until about 1 year into the battle that he finally got a look of resignation on his face. He knew he was going to die from cancer. And that was such a kick in the gut for me. I really lost it at that point, and while the rest of my family was certainly not doing well, they were not at the low point that I was at. Then at the time of the funeral, I found it almost impossible to cry. So many people were commenting how I was such a rock and taking it all so well. Those comments just made me feel guilty and perplexed as to why I wasn't crying all the time. I remember thinking to myself "please cry, please cry." On November 9th it will be 4 years that he has been gone. And in these past 4 years, I have cried many times. But it hits me at odd moments, usually when I am alone, and when I see his face in my mind. I share this with you to reinforce to you that grief expresses itself in very different ways. If you are having difficulty crying right now, maybe it is because your body is in defense mode and is protecting you until you are more physically ready to deal with the emotions. Or maybe it's some other reason. But whatever the reason, it obviously doesn't mean that you aren't completely devastated and no one in their right mind would think otherwise. Be kind and accepting of yourself. The tears will come, and unfortunately they will never go away because you've lost an integral part of you. The bright side is that the intensity and emptiness that accompanies your tears now will give way to more and more moments of happiness as you remember Mattie and figure out how he fits into your life going forward. Just give yourself time to get there."

The final message is from a friend and fellow RCC mom. Grace wrote, "I simply can't believe that it's been a month. It seems like yesterday that we received the crushing news that Mattie was gone. I have thought of you, Peter and Mattie every day since his death. Regarding your mission to keep Mattie's memory alive, I want to assure you that Mattie will not be forgotten. There is not a day that I don't think of him, and I know I'm not alone. We are all forever changed because of him. In fact, I still wear my Mattie bracelet on my wrist so that I won't forget. I want it to be a constant reminder of Mattie and what matters in life, and if it's there on my wrist right in front of me, then maybe just maybe, I'll be able to keep my eye on the ball of what's truly important in life. I know you struggle with trying to understand why you have been placed in such a harrowing experience of witnessing two deaths within a one-month time frame, and you wonder what your purpose will be once Mattie's funeral is past. I think it's all related. Your life experiences have provided you with such powerful tools to help other people as a counselor in a way that most people can't. You are now armed with the most incredible first-hand experience and knowledge that your mere presence in other care-givers lives will help them. There is such comfort and connection in being able to say, "I've been there--I know what you're feeling." You gain instant credibility. And this will help you too. I'm so very grateful that you have been able to help Ann and her family. It's a wonderful focus for you to spend time helping others. That's what brings you joy. It's your salvation. And it's your gift. You have always been an amazingly warm, kind and compassionate person--the perfect qualities for a mental health professional. Now coupled with your experiences, there's no end to the number of people who you'll help immeasurably in life-changing ways. And it will bring you great joy and also help you in your quest to educate others about Osteosarcoma as well. I was thrilled to see you use the word "excited" in relation to setting up the foundation. And I promise there will be more exciting moments for you as things begin to come together and goals become accomplished. I would love to be a part of the foundation in whatever capacity you think I may be able to help. I have a bit more free time on my hands these days and would love to help you in whatever way I can. On another note, I also wanted to make the offer to store some of Mattie's treasures in our house. It's just too difficult to sort through his treasures right now, so please feel free to keep them in our storage area until you're ready to revisit them. Lastly, I know you're working frantically on perfecting Mattie's eulogy now. Please know that anything that you are a part of will inevitably have the stamp of greatness on it. Your dedication and perfection was made abundantly evident during this past year, and I know your 5 minutes on Saturday will reflect the same. Tomorrow will be a wonderful tribute not only to Mattie, but to his wonderful parents who made him that way."