Sunday, November 15, 2009Tonight's picture was taken in November 2008, after Mattie's second limb salvaging surgery. Mattie is sitting in a hospital bed which we rented and placed in our living room for several months. You will notice that Mattie's companion, Patches, was sitting on the bed with him keeping Mattie company. Patches would sleep on Mattie's hospital bed each night. I mention this because this was atypical. Patches never slept with Mattie before the arrival of the hospital bed. Somehow Patches sensed that Mattie needed her company and support. Nonetheless, look at the smile on Mattie's face. Despite having great pain, his smile was like a beacon that always shone through even in the worst of circumstances.
Poem of the day: Angel poem by Agnes Marshall
We can't turn back
The hands of time
Or wish for yesterday
But we can remember
The good times
In a very special way
And keep in our thoughts
Those left behind
In each passing day
A Little boy
A special friend
A little fighter
Right to the end.
Gone from our lives
But not from our hearts
We'll keep you there always
Like we have from the start.
Time spent with you
Was so very precious
Even if only for a very short time
I hold a special memory
Close inside this heart of mine
To me you were very special
Much more than words can say
I still love you now little angel
And I'll remember you every day.
Something woke me up this morning at 2am. I find it ironic, now that Patches is home, she is sleeping on top of my feet at night. So when I woke up, so did she. She followed me around trying to figure out what I was doing up at that awful hour. Out of a deep sleep I could feel that I had a terrible headache. The pain was intense, and I could no longer sleep. So I went downstairs for two hours. While I was awake, I found that a terrible feeling of sadness came over me. I did not panic per se, but I felt myself getting very uneasy because I wasn't sure what to do with this feeling. Certainly if I thought talking about it would have helped, I would have gotten Peter up, but I have noticed now when I am so overwhelmed, I can't talk. I can't process things verbally. Instead I find that I now write about my thoughts and feelings almost seamlessly or effortlessly. I attribute that to writing each day on the blog. My one consistent outlet this year has been writing, not verbal communication. In fact, Mattie limited my verbal interactions, and though I was a strong verbal communicator in the past, I am now not only hesitant but reluctant to express my true feelings verbally. It no longer comes naturally to me. My thoughts at 2am centered around Mattie and the fact that I will not see him again, hear him again, or be able to be his mother ever again. It was almost like this reality check was so overwhelming, and though I have never been electrocuted, I felt as if emotionally this was happening to me. I finally got back to sleep around 4am.
However, my feelings and emotions today were just raw. Peter and I were invited to an engagement party today. One of his colleagues is getting married in February. I wanted to support Peter and I decided to go to the party with him. However, that was my first mistake. I should have realized and respected my own feelings that I am NOT ready for a party, and particularly I am not ready to socialize in a world that hasn't lived Mattie's ordeal with me intensely. Though the party was lovely and every one was very nice to me, I could sense after about 20 minutes, I wasn't doing well. There were young children at the party too, and a little boy toddled over in my direction and then just fell into my lap. I of course caught him, but that was it. I couldn't take another happy scene or to be around life. At which point, I told Peter I had to leave and walk around, but that he was welcome to stay and chat. So for about 30 minutes, I went outside into the sunshine, and walked alone. Peter then met me outside and we left the party early. Once in the car, I landed up crying the entire way home, which was a 45 minute trip. In addition to crying, I was unable to speak, and just felt an amazing wave of depression come over me. This is the first time this has happened to me with regard to Mattie's death. For the first time today, I couldn't see anything positive, and I couldn't see how I could continue feeling this much pain. My crying just continued at home, and Peter sat with me and held me. I had trouble looking at Mattie's pictures today without crying, everything around me just seemed incredibly sad.
For those of you concerned about my headaches, you will be happy to know that I am seeing a neurologist tomorrow. There are just so many aftermaths of this year, which have wrecked havoc on me physically and emotionally.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I cannot see Legos without thinking of Mattie. I have no idea how you managed that competition yesterday even for as long as you did. I, and all your friends wish there was a way we could turn back the clock for you but of course we cannot. I just hope you know that we are here, we support you in your grief and we miss Mattie too. I think the days will remain difficult for some time to come; I think you will just have to decide for yourself what you can manage and what you cannot. Friends who are in tune with you will understand how it is and be okay with this. I know your weekends were family time; it will take a while to turn them into "couples' time" but I think eventually you and Peter will get there. Be kind to yourself and if you are up to it, find something you and Peter enjoy together and try to do it."
The second message is from one of my talented former students. Julie wrote, "Although I haven't written in a while I have been thinking about you, Peter, and Mattie daily and continue to read your blog on a regular basis. I want you to know that I will never forget about Mattie and he will always be a part of my thoughts. Unfortunately, I had several friends pass away when I was in high school and there legacy still lives inside of me like I know Mattie's will. He has taught me so much and I cherish all I have learned from him. Thank you for allowing me into your life for these lifelong lessons. I am far from being the expert counselor that you are, but I do know from all your incredible teachings that the thoughts and emotions you are going through are all part of the grieving process. You will forever be affected by the loss of Mattie in your life and that is perfectly normal and understandable. I remember the speaker you had in one of our classes that came and talked about bereavement and she said that the loss of a child is the most tragic of losses and the hardest to process and deal with. She said their life is forever changed and that parents will always grieve for their loss. She taught me that the emotions you are feeling are normal for a parent who has lost a child i.e. am I still a mother, will I ever be whole again, the emptiness inside, the isolation, etc. She taught me that the counselor needs to process things only as the client is ready to (something I only wish that social worker would have learned) and not on the therapists time frame. So please remember to take your time and not rush anything. You will know when you are ready to handle certain things like reading a bereavement book. I am thinking about you and promise to always remember Mattie!!!!"
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