Tonight's pictures feature only some of the art displays at Mattie's celebration of life reception on Saturday, October 10. Every piece of art you see was a Mattie creation! He was very prolific this year, and art was a wonderful form of therapy for him. I want to thank Tamra Bentsen, Deb Pollak (Mattie's art teacher), Liza May and other Team Mattie volunteers for displaying this art in the most appealing and visually stimulating manner. In addition, we want to thank Dr. Bob for generously taking pictures for us throughout the entire reception!
First row: Left: On this reception table you will see Mattie's Empire States Building erector set, the lighthouse card he designed for me on my birthday, a red rocket ship, and a host of other wonderful pieces. Right: Many of the wonderful canvases Mattie painted in the Lombardi Clinic at Georgetown University Hospital.
Second row: Left: A display board with all the Valentine's day cards Mattie made for Vicki, along with the famous statue of Dr. Crazyhair. Right: The Lego hospital Mattie created from his imagination and was entered in the Hospital art show. The theme of the show was "what a hospital should be..."
Poem of the day: Poem of Life
Life is but a stopping place,
A pause in what's to be,
A resting place along the road,
to sweet eternity.
We all have different journeys,
Different paths along the way,
We all were meant to learn some things,
but never meant to stay...Our destination is a place,
Far greater than we know.
For some the journey's quicker,
For some the journey's slow.
And when the journey finally ends,
We'll claim a great reward,
And find an everlasting peace,
Together with the lord.
We have appreciated all the wonderful e-mails you are sending us about your impressions of Mattie's funeral and celebration of life reception. Every detail you captured and shared with me, means so much! Peter and I enjoyed talking with all of you on the receiving line, however, in the midst of doing this, I am afraid we were unable to mingle around and hear your impressions of Mattie's photo albums and art work. Our intention for the celebration of life reception was to highlight the creative side of Mattie and to also capture his spirit to have fun and unite people together. It is my hope that you would agree that this was indeed accomplished!
I received many e-mails regarding Mattie's "Mr. Sun" painting. Many of you did not realize that this glorious painting was in 3-D. In fact, the colors of the painting are so exquisite, that it is hard to actually photograph this piece and do it justice. Based on your comments, I realize that by seeing this painting in person, it took your breath away. I understand that completely. This is one of the greatest gifts I have that was produced by Mattie's hands. In addition, I am honored to know that several of you took pictures of "Mr. Sun" and it serves as the wallpaper on your phone. I also find it fascinating that after leaving the reception some of you spotted a rainbow as well as the sun in the sky (especially since Saturday was a very cloudy day!) and thought about Mattie. This is music to a mother's ears!
My intention for tomorrow night's blog is to highlight the children's room and their events that took place at the reception. As a mental health professional, in all good consciousness, I could not host an event that did not help the children process this loss on some level. I am fortunate that I could call on several of my fine GW doctoral students and graduates to help with the children. They did an outstanding job, and I will feature this tomorrow. However, I must say that I find it fascinating to see how Mattie's cousins and friends are processing this tragedy. Never underestimate children. They are deeply feeling, they watch the adults in their lives, and they DO experience grief. Not addressing their grief is not only unethical, but it is also not healthy. I do want to mention that throughout the entire reception, my oldest nephew, Nat, would find me almost every 30 minutes, NO MATTER WHERE I WAS, and he would give me a hug. It did not matter what I was doing, or who I was talking to, he continued on his mission. In his perception, I just needed the support. His thoughtfulness and maturity got me to pause. As I noticed his pattern throughout the night, I would joke with him, and I would say, "here comes my grief counselor checking in with me for my half an hour hug." These hugs meant a great deal to me, and it showed me that Nat understood all too well the depths of the loss I was experiencing. So yes children are innocent and they may process grief differently than us, but never discount that they have real and deep feelings that must be talked about or expressed in some fashion.
I would like to share a letter I wrote to Mattie after he died. In fact, Mary, Mattie's technology teacher, encouraged me to do this. Initially this letter was going to be inserted into the video. But the letter took on a life of its own, and it did not fit well into the video. So instead, Tamra and Deb Pollak decided to turn the letter into a poster (thanks Luda!) for all of you to read at the reception. For those of you who were unable to read the letter, I attached it here!
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My Dearest Mattie,
It is said that parents love their children right from the moment they are born. However, in your case, our love for you began as soon as we learned we were going to have a baby. In fact, right after seeing your sonogram picture, we felt like proud parents. We posted those pictures everywhere. We shared these pictures with practically anyone who would listen or showed interest, and each September when I taught prenatal development in my undergraduate human development class, out would come your sonogram pictures to illustrate my points. Even my students got a sneak peek at our baby, a baby who would have a profound and meaningful impact on not just his parents but also every community he touched. Daddy and I did not only love you, we FELL IN LOVE with you, and that love grew stronger with each day. Your energy, spirit, love for life, intellectual challenges, sense of humor, and loyalty to your friends and family were only some of the wonderful traits we always admired in you.
This video is a tribute to you and your wonderful, yet short life. It seems fitting as we celebrate you, and say good-bye to your physical presence that I share the story about how you entered the world. The story of your birth had to be one of your most favorite stories to hear, and I found during times when you were reflective, overly tired, or in need of hugs and tenderness, the request for this story arose. In fact, I remember on August 5th, the day we found out that your cancer metastasized everywhere, you and I were sitting in the hospital’s rose garden, and you requested the story. It was almost as if you knew this was going to be a bad day, so in essence we might as well brace ourselves, cuddle, and prepare for this together.
Here is the story I always shared with you. A story Daddy and I will never forget. On April 2, 2002, at 11pm, I decided to head to bed. I was anxiously awaiting your birth, and as your due date approached, I couldn’t help but wonder, when will “the baby” be coming? I was restless and uncomfortable, so while in bed, I began to watch television. I was having trouble concentrating on what I was hearing, mainly because you were kicking up a storm inside of me. At which point, the kicking became so intense, that I literally felt something pop. You clearly wanted OUT, and you were going to kick your way into the world on your terms. Naturally after feeling this pop, I looked down at my tummy, and when I jumped out of bed, I realized my water had broken. This only happens to 25% of moms, and in retrospect, I should have guessed that this was just the beginning of how different our lives were going to be together. I immediately called the doctor and told her what happened. She asked if I was in pain, which I wasn’t, and she instead told me to get a good night’s rest, because my baby was going to be born the following day. Well I can assure you after hearing this news, sleeping was the farthest thing from our minds.
So on April 3, 2002, Daddy and I headed to the hospital and we were admitted to the maternity unit at 8am. The labor process began, but it was a VERY slow process for me, and at times as you moved inside my tummy, Daddy could see your head pushing against my backbone. Needless to say Dr. Mike, the anesthesiologist, became my favorite doctor that day. The hours kept rolling by, and still there was NO sign of our baby! I was getting weaker, I developed an 102 fever, and by 11pm I really had no energy to give birth to you. In addition, to how I was feeling, your oxygen supply was getting cut off, and your chin was positioned in such a way that would make the birthing process almost impossible. So it was at that point that the doctor recommended an emergency c-section. Things began to happen very quickly around me. I was signing paperwork for surgery and Daddy was being transformed by putting on a bunny suit so he could enter the operating room.
I had never been in an operating room before in my life, but I really wasn’t concerned at that point about myself. I was solely focused upon you. I was wide-awake for the c-section, but unable to see the process, which as you know, was probably a good thing. Daddy on the other hand found the whole thing very exciting, and began to videotape and take pictures of the surgery. Literally a team of people surrounded me and I will never forget Dr. Mike, the anesthesiologist who sat by my side, and talked with me and did whatever he could to keep me pain free.
When you have a c-section, your arms are strapped to the operating table, so I couldn’t move, and directly over my head was what appeared to be a rope with a clamp that was holding open my abdominal cavity. Normally by this point I would have passed out, but when it came to you, I developed strength I never knew I had. As the doctor began cutting, and finally got to you, the first thing she said was, “what is this?” That is NOT what you typically hope to hear when having a c-section. The doctor let me know that I had a grapefruit sized tumor on my bladder, and my immediate thought was, did this affect the baby? The next thing I knew, I felt her tugging, and I heard the loudest cry ever. Now here is the part of the story that I know was always your FAVORITE! I would always try to replicate the sound I heard coming from you that day, a sound that will always remain in a parent’s ear. It was a very large WAAHHH! WAAHHH! At which point the doctor told us two things: first, that you were one of the most beautiful babies she had ever seen, and second, that you had quite a set of lungs on you! I concurred with both statements.
The doctor then brought you over to me, and she felt that I needed to be the first person to touch you. So despite my arms strapped to the table, my right hand miraculously reached out and grabbed your tiny, soft, and cute foot. It was a moment I will always cherish, a moment in which I will never forget, and a moment I am so happy you too enjoyed hearing about. Each time I retold the story I felt as if it further bonded us together, and I always enjoyed hearing your comments, thoughts, and reactions to your story.
Seeing you made Daddy very happy! Though he was worried about me, since after the c-section, I had to have bladder surgery to remove the tumor, we both agreed that Daddy should stay with you and accompany you to the nursery. It is there that Daddy got to see you cleaned up, he learned that you weighed 6 pounds and 13 ounces, and that you had high Apgar scores of 8 and 9. Within an instant, Daddy became one of your fiercest protectors, and he cared for you for five days straight while we were in the hospital together. In fact, Daddy is the first person who changed your diaper, and though those were five very challenging days in the hospital, they were days that helped us form our strong family ties. Ties that were imperative and that we relied on for seven years of your life!
Your presence is so greatly missed. Nothing seems the same, is the same, looks, feels, or tastes the same without you in our lives. May you always know that Mommy and Daddy love you, cherish you, and that feeling will remain with us forever and always. Good-bye my Mooshi Moo angel and goodbye Daddy’s best buddy. With love from Una Moon and Daddy!
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I would like to end tonight's posting with seven messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Mattie's path took him over a very short road but what a rich and compelling road it was. The most beautiful thing about Mattie's road was how many people he was able to persuade to walk it with him for a time. Doctors, nurses, medical staff, teachers, friends, even those who had never met him person, all joined with him in his march. What an amazing feat for anyone, let alone a seven year old boy. And the path was made fun and full of laughter even as the huge boulders of fear, pain and disease and were navigated along the way. Vicki, I know your fear is that Mattie will be forgotten. Trust me when I say, that those of us who were privileged to walk with Mattie either in person or virtually, will never forget the gifts he shared with us. My prayer for you today is to find a feeling of peace in knowing just how much Mattie gave to so many."
The second message is from a fellow SSSAS mom and friend. Thank you Tamra for helping to plan a fabulous Celebration of Life reception. Mattie would have been so PROUD of you! Tamra wrote, "I am thinking of you, my friends.Saturday was a most beautiful, sweet, and overwhelming day. Love surrounded everything. All for the love of the amazing Mattie Brown. Oh, so grateful are we - our family - that we knew Mattie and will continue to celebrate and remember him always. He sprinkled eternal joy in all of us.We will also continue to nurture and grow our friendship with the two of you."
The third message is from Mattie's first preschool teacher and our friend. Margaret wrote, "You and Peter have been in my thoughts and prayers all day. I just want you to know that yesterday was a beautiful and sacred day...one that will remain a life-altering memory for all who participated. Every elegant detail was exquisitely executed; all of your efforts and personal direction were apparent from beginning to end. Mattie is, once again, so proud of his amazing mom and dad!"
The fourth message is from a colleague of Vicki's. Jay wrote, "WHAT A BEAUTIFUL AND MEANINGFUL MASS AND RECEPTION, FILLED WITH LOVE, TESTIMONIES AND COURAGE. I ENJOYED MEETING PETER AND SEEING YOU YESTERDAY. I FEEL LIKE I MET MATTIE, AND THANK YOU FOR SHARING HIM WITH ME..... MAY GOD GIVE YOU ALL LOTS OF STRENGTH IN THE MONTHS TO COME."
The fifth message is from one of Mattie's favorite childlife interns. Lesley wrote, "The service on Saturday was truly extraordinary. The love and care you have as parents shines through in all that you do. The day was thoughtful, touching and brought not only tears, but laughter, which is the only way Mattie would have wanted it. Your precious son touched and changed the lives of so many, and that truly showed on saturdays events. Mattie will never ever be forgotten, and he lives in the hearts of everyone he met, and even those who have only heard of him. On my way out of the funeral I snapped a picture of the Mattie Sun painting with my phone. I set it as my background as a reminder every time I look at it to live each day to the fullest, just like Mattie. Your entire family is and always will be an inspiration to me."
The sixth message is from a friend of my sister in law's. I got to know Lesley this year through our e-mail exchanges. She surprised me on Saturday, by traveling from Boston to attend Mattie's funeral and to personally give me a hug. This meant a GREAT deal to me! Lesley wrote, "Karen's email sums it up for those of us that only met Mattie through your words. I can assure you that he will never be forgotten. You taught me to stop trying to change what makes my son so unique. It is only this year that I was able to stop and clearly see Max's gifts without judgement. It was your voice, journey, and modeling with Mattie that taught many how to love deeply. Seeing Mattie's art was breathtaking. Your pictures on the blog were beautiful but to see this little boy's magic in person left me in awe.......it was stunning. When I told my husband that I wanted to pay my respects to your family he wondered if it was appropriate, and I did too. It was out of my character but I desperately wanted to give you a hug and let you know that strangers will never forget your amazing, brave, funny, wicked smart, Mattie."
The final message is from Dr. Shad. Dr. Shad is the director of the pediatric Lombardi Cancer Center at Georgetown University Hospital. Dr. Shad was the doctor who assisted us as Mattie was dying. Dr. Shad wrote, "What a beautiful tribute to Mattie yesterday. Once again, the two of you demonstrated the immense love and unbelievably strong relationship that you have with Mattie and each other. The entire day was carefully planned and elegantly executed. The tribute in the evening was a testament to who you are as individuals and how much Mattie was loved by everyone who had the good fortune to come in contact with him. Thank you for inviting me to be part of the service. It was an honor to be included. I wish you both peace in your lives, and success in all you efforts to make a difference in the lives of children suffering from cancer. The void that Mattie's passing has left may never go away, but your efforts to change things will make it more bearable. I look forward to meeting with you and joining hands with you in realizing your efforts - the best tribute you could pay to Mattie's memory."
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