Mattie Miracle Walk 2023 was a $131,249 success!

Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation Promotional Video

Thank you for keeping Mattie's memory alive!

Dear Mattie Blog Readers,

It means a great deal to us that you take the time to write to us and to share your thoughts, feelings, and reflections on Mattie's battle and death. Your messages are very meaningful to us and help support us through very challenging times. To you we are forever grateful. As my readers know, I promised to write the blog for a year after Mattie's death, which would mean that I could technically stop writing on September 9, 2010. However, at the moment, I feel like our journey with grief still needs to be processed and fortunately I have a willing support network still committed to reading. Therefore, the blog continues on. If I should find the need to stop writing, I assure you I will give you advanced notice. In the mean time, thank you for reading, thank you for having the courage to share this journey with us, and most importantly thank you for keeping Mattie's memory alive.


As Mattie would say, Ooga Booga (meaning, I LOVE YOU)! Vicki and Peter



The Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation celebrates its 7th anniversary!

The Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation was created in the honor of Mattie.

We are a 501(c)(3) Public Charity. We are dedicated to increasing childhood cancer awareness, education, advocacy, research and psychosocial support services to children, their families and medical personnel. Children and their families will be supported throughout the cancer treatment journey, to ensure access to quality psychosocial and mental health care, and to enable children to cope with cancer so they can lead happy and productive lives. Please visit the website at: www.mattiemiracle.com and take some time to explore the site.

We have only gotten this far because of people like yourself, who have supported us through thick and thin. So thank you for your continued support and caring, and remember:

.... Let's Make the Miracle Happen and Stomp Out Childhood Cancer!

A Remembrance Video of Mattie

November 21, 2009

Friday, November 20, 2009

Friday, November 20, 2009

Tonight's picture was taken during November 2008 in the PICU. Mattie was standing next to Brandon, his big buddy. Notice the decorations on both Mattie's and Brandon's IV poles. Mattie's (on the left) was decorated using a box that represented a caterpillar smiling (aka "Smiley") and Brandon's pole was decorated as Wall-E, the movie character. When Brandon finished his chemo treatment in December 2008, he gave Mattie his Wall-E IV pole decoration. This meant a great deal to Mattie, and from that day forward "Smiley" came off of Mattie's IV pole and was replaced with "Wall-E" in remembrance of Brandon and the good times they had together in the hospital.


Poem of the day: Go to God by Grace E. Easley

When a friend is feeling sorrow
That you wish that you could share,
And no words of any language
Can remove the grief they bear,
When the unexpected shadows
Fall across the path they trod,
There is no human remedy,
When a brave heart's torn asunder,
And it's courage seems too small
There is no solace found in pain
That overtakes us all.
When hot tears keep on falling'
Til they drench the very sod,
To find someone to dry them,
There's a reason for each heartache,
Though we cannot see it now,
And we grow with every sorrow,
That Heaven will allow.
Though we always seek the sunlight,
Earth is still "a vale of tears"
And only God can help us bear
The burden of the years.
We've simply got to trust Him,
And we can't afford to doubt,
Because He has created life,
He knows what it's about.
Because His dear feet also walked
These narrow paths we trod,
To heal our broken spirits.


Peter and I had the wonderful opportunity to meet with Lauren this morning. Lauren is a St. Stephen's/St. Agnes School parent, but her professional skills are marketing and lobbying. Lauren has met with Peter before and was instrumental at guiding us during the Mattie Miracle Walk (May 2009). Once again, Lauren was generous with her time and expertise today, as she helped us brainstorm some ideas for launching the Foundation soon. Originally we were going to have this brainstorming session by phone, but face to face meetings are important to me especially as it relates to matters involving Mattie. I realize in the world of business and in our fast paced society, face to face meetings are becoming a thing of the past. I certainly respect that, but when it is documented that 90% of communication is non-verbal, I know a great deal can be missed through conference calls. Since I hadn't had the opportunity to meet with Lauren face to face before, it was important that I got this chance today. In addition, I feel Peter and I are a good combination, because he is the one with the business sense, and knows logistically what we need to focus upon, and I consider myself a person who is skilled at reading and understanding people. I think combining these skills, is what has always made us a dynamic combination. I also feel that it is important for me to understand something about the people working with us on Mattie's Foundation. This is a very important endeavor to me, and though it would be lovely to get certain tasks accomplished with each meeting, after Mattie's death I have learned to appreciate slowing down. Slowing down to get to know the person I am working with, understanding their perspectives on life, Mattie, and then of course soaking in what guidance they can offer us. I found our meeting with Lauren today accomplished all these things. We talked about a whole host of things, but I was deeply touched when Lauren told me I was a gifted writer. In a time, where I feel less than gifted in just about anything, it was very special to me to hear how much she feels is conveyed in my writings.

I met up with Ann for lunch and this was a busy day ahead of us since it was her daughter's birthday party today. While I was with Ann at the restaurant, one of Ann's neighbors, Karen, came up to me and asked me how I was. I had met her once before, and since that time she has written me some lovely e-mails. I continue to be amazed by how Mattie's life has touched so many people, and I was very moved by the fact that Karen continues to read the blog.

Ann's daughter, Katie, had an incredible birthday party. It started at her house, all the girls were given instructions for their mall scavenger hunt, and then in four cars we headed to the mall. There were four groups of girls, and each group had an adult paired with them. I trailed after the "pink" team of girls. Fortunately I had gone to the mall with Ann prior to the party and I was very familiar with the clues and the stores. I had a good time watching the girls figure out what items they needed to purchase toward the scavenger hunt, and it was also a lesson in economics, since they could only spend the allotted amount of money they were given. The girls had a wonderful time, and while they were in one store trying to find the most cost effective purchase, I bumped in Lesley. Lesley was one of Linda's childlife interns at the Georgetown University Hospital. Lesley worked closely with Mattie, and what I found so incredibly special is that Lesley reads the blog each day. She wasn't only saying that, she knew exactly how I was feeling and what has been going on in my life. I continue to be amazed by the powerful connections Mattie has made for us. Lesley understood exactly why I was at the mall, and she also understood why the holidays were going to be so difficult for Peter and I. As we kept on talking, Lesley began to cry, and I too began to tear up. There is so much wrong about Mattie's death, and I can only imagine how this has impacted Lesley as well. After all she was a childlife student, who got close to Mattie, and then he died.

The girls at the party obtained some wonderful items at the mall, and then they got to pick a couple of these items to take home with them as party favors. There was a remaining item that none of the girls claimed, so Peter grabbed it for me. It was a nail file. Why? Because when I would travel with Mattie to places like Seaworld, or any other fun place, I would always purchase a nail file with a picture of that place on it. I guess that sounds strange, but remember I am sentimental about a WHOLE host of things. In my purse, if you are brave enough to ask me, I can show you an old Seaworld nail file that I still carry around with me. It no longer works, but I can't part with it. Mattie and I picked it out together during his trip to San Diego in August 2007.

For the most part participating in the birthday party today was fine, until everyone sang Happy Birthday to Katie and then she got to blow out the candles on her birthday cake. There was something about that whole scene that was too raw for me. The only thing I could immediately think about was I will never see Mattie blow out candles again. That there are no more birthday parties for me to plan, and the flow of thoughts just kept coming. However, the energy of the girls in the room was powerful and it helped recenter me, even if it is temporary.

Somewhere along the line tonight, I had the opportunity to have a two minute exchange with Dr. Bob. Since we were both working at the party, having a conversation was not exactly possible. But Bob saw one of the e-mails I sent to Ann and Tanja this week, since he and Peter were copied on it. In the e-mail I basically said though 12 is a lovely age, I wouldn't want to go back in time. Bob asked me why. My answer was because I wouldn't want to relive my current heartache all over again. Once was more than enough. Though we were interrupted, I could sense that Bob felt compelled to say something and wanted me to know none of this was in my control or my fault.

I would like to end tonight's posting with three messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Sometimes the "cure" can be worse than the disease and so it may be with the medication for the headaches. It sounds as though stopping the medication, at least for now is a good idea.As you get further away from Mattie's death, the "protection" of the our natural response of shock to such a horrifying, unbelievable event wears off. As it does, you feel the loss more deeply and think even more about what is now missing from your life and what you will not have in the future. This feeling is "normal" for someone grieving the loss of someone who is very close to them. It is terribly painful, beyond words and I am so sorry for your loss and your pain. There will come a point where you will move beyond this level of pain although I know you will never stop loving, missing and wishing for Mattie. A loss like this cannot be shared but like a broken limb, your friends and family can walk with you and support you even though they don't feel the actual pain. Today, lean on someone for support and don't try to bear the weight all alone."

The second message is from a colleague of mine, who also graduated from the George Washington University. Denise is a faithful blog reader and lives in North Carolina. We hadn't seen each other in years, until Mattie's funeral. Denise wrote, "I wanted to share with you that I thought of Mattie (and you) today and it brought a smile to my face. This morning was a little darker than usual because we've been having overcast days, which really doesn't help me to get out of bed (I've never been a morning person). I had already hit the snooze button twice, and had drifted back to sleep after each time. When the alarm went off the final time (I have it set to the radio), "Dancing Queen" began playing. I immediately thought of the stories you shared about Mattie doing his exercises at Georgetown, and proceeded to lay in bed and listen to the entire song. Thought you might like to know his memory continues to live on. You all are still in my thoughts and prayers."

The third message is from another colleague of mine. Melissa also is a graduate of the George Washington University and moved to the mid-west, yet is a faithful blog reader as well. Melissa wrote, "I just had to write. I'm still reading your blog and I'm so comforted to read that though you know I (and others like me) can't possibly understand, I (/we) am (/are) trying to. When I read about you missing Mattie I simply break down. "There are days I try to remember what he sounded like, how he laughed, and my favorite... how his cute cheeks felt as they rubbed against my face. I remember the feeling of his hugs, kisses, and holding hands, but I must admit there are days I struggle to remember his voice. I know that Mattie once called Peter at work, and left him a message on his voice mail. I wish a had a message on my phone too, so I could hear Mattie whenever I wanted to." I simply cannot comprehend the loss, the emptiness, the longing, the anger, the bewilderment you must feel. If all I had left of my daughter(s) was memories and a longing for remembering how her cute cheeks felt as they rubbed against my face--well, I simply don't know, I simply cannot comprehend. Imagining that and knowing that it is what you (and others) are having to endure is truly overwhelming. I don't know that I could stop from crying--I hardly can stop right now, just imagining it. I don't know that I could get out of bed. If and when I did, I don't know how I'd suffer through the existence I was so seemingly cruelly called to endure. I think I'd be so damn angry and yet have nothing to do with that anger, no where to displace it, and so all consumed with my grief. I simply CANNOT understand, Vicki. I am so sorry that you or anyone has to endure this. It is just not right, not fair. I sound like and feel like a little child saying that, and yet that is how it feels when I get close to only imagining what you must be feeling. You are still so amazingly brave and courageous. Some think that soldiers are brave for they are willing to lay down their life for others, many they don't even know. I've never really been able to imagine that or comprehend that. YOUR courage, though, I can imagine. I hate to imagine it, yet I know how it could be my reality or my sister's reality or truly anyone's reality. We don't know how, or why or when it could strike. You, and others, have had to face this horrific battle. I stand in absolute awe of the courage and bravery you show to face each day and attempt to cope, and one day perhaps piece together some sense of a life or purpose for yourself. Thank you for sharing this journey with me/us. I'm so sorry I cannot understand and offer you meaningful comfort or validation from a place of deep understanding. I pray that your connections with other moms/parents who have tragically lost a child will provide some sort of comfort and/or validation to you in the days, weeks, and months to come. I also pray that you will still courageously accept love and help and companionship from those who cannot/do not understand but who LOVE you. May that carry you through some excruciatingly lonely times. Thinking of Mattie and his sweet soft cheeks."

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