Thursday, November 12, 2009

Thursday, November 12, 2009

A year ago today, Mattie underwent a marathon 10+ hour surgery at Georgetown University Hospital to remove three bone tumors. Dr. Bob performed two major limb salvaging surgeries (one of Mattie's right leg and the other of Mattie's left arm), and a bone graft in Mattie's left wrist. Tonight's picture was taken on November 12, 2008, at 6am in the pre-op area. It was a morning I will never forget. I was so anxious, but thankfully Bob has such a calming demeanor, otherwise, they would of had to sedate both Mattie and I for the duration of the surgery. Despite the surgeries and chemotherapy being so life altering for Mattie and us, they did enable us to have one more year with Mattie. What I would give now for ONE MORE YEAR!

Poem of the day: THE BROKEN CHAIN

We little knew that morning,
that God was going to call your name.
In life we loved you dearly,
In death we do the same.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
you did not go alone;
for part of us went with you,
the day God called you home.
You left us peaceful memories
your love is still our guide
and though we cannot see you
you are always at our side.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
but as God calls us one by one,
the chain will link again.




Tonight's poem evokes several feelings in me. The first is that I wholeheartedly agree that I do feel as if Mattie is and will always be at my side. There are times I feel his presence, and when I hear his wind chimes blowing in the wind, I do feel as if he is sending me a message of guidance. However, Mattie was a crucial link in our family, and without him, Peter and I as a couple, and our extended family, are trying to redefine ourselves, and understand what links us to one another. This beautiful and precious link, called Mattie, is forever gone, and yet I sometimes wonder how do I repair the connections with those in my family who are remaining? The poem ends by implying that when we die, at some point, we will be reunited with Mattie, and our family links will be rejoined again. Though I realize this is very symbolic and written to provide hope and peace, it does absolutely nothing for me. What if such a reunion is only possible in theory and there is no life after death? A death of such grand proportion makes you challenge every belief system and conviction you may have held in the past. What it comes down to is I don't want the opportunity for a chance relinking in the future, I want Mattie back now. A chance to relink brings me NO comfort, NO peace, and certainly NO hope for today.

Friday is Peter's birthday. As I went to buy a greeting card for him today, and was searching for a card, I realized how do you give a birthday card to a man who just lost his son? What should the card say? Hallmark hasn't come up with the perfect card for that scenario, I guarantee you of that! As I was struggling to find a card, I came across cards that said, "Dad" or "Mom" on them, and I began to feel extremely unhappy. Yes Thanksgiving and Christmas will be hard, but what about Mother's day and Father's day? The endless opportunities for pain seem to be popping up all over the place!

I had the opportunity to see Ellen (Charlotte's mom) and Christine (Campbell's mom) today for lunch. We are making an effort to see each other weekly, and I want to impress upon my readers that prior to Mattie's illness the three of us did not get together weekly. But somehow through Mattie's death, we realized some things have to change. We can't put off the opportunity to connect with friends, the chance to get to know one another deeper, and that it is okay to share our inner thoughts and feelings with one another. It is ironic, prior to Mattie's cancer, I would never have slowed down to appreciate these moments, I instead jumped from one task to another. In the process of doing this, who knows what I potentially missed. Mattie's death has forced or jolted me to face certain realities about life and I continue to be perplexed about how much I have learned about life through understanding death.

This afternoon, I had the opportunity to pick Ann's older daughter, Katie, up at school. As I was waiting in the carpool line, I could see Katie in the distance, and what immediately struck me was there was the 11 year old version of Ann. Katie, to me, looks a lot like her mother, and for some reason this resemblance made me smile. It made me imagine what Ann must have been like at Katie's age, but it also made me see that our children are our legacy. But what happens when your legacy dies? Somehow today was a day of questions for me, many of which have no simple answers.


I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "There was a time in the not very distant past when one who was grieving wore black for a year. Although the world did not stop, everyone who saw that person knew they were grieving and would express their condolences; people went to see the family in a sympathy call as the family tended to remain outside of "society" for a year giving themselves some time to grieve. Perhaps we have given those customs up too quickly. It's hard to know. I do know that it is hard to be in grief and walk around in public and realize that no one sees it, even though the loss is written in capital letters on your heart and mind. I appreciate what Jenny and Jesse did with the children in the clinic; it is wonderful that they are helping them process their grief for Mattie. They, like you, are intensely aware of the fragility of life and yet if they are to be successful in their battles to survive their illnesses they have to be very strong and sometimes even that is not enough. It is a hard road to walk as you well know. I am grateful to Ann for being there, being a strong support and keeping you from isolating yourself as you grieve. I read in your blog how much Mattie loved Christmas and I too am having difficulty facing all the decorations in the stores. I am not a Christian but my intent this year is to try to appreciate the deeper meaning of the holiday season in general; and to try to be the candle that casts light into someone's darkness. Today, for a while, may you find some of that light in your own life."


The second message is from my friend and colleague, Nancy. Nancy wrote, "Dearest Vicki, I read the last two days blogs and am very glad that you are okay. Another wake up call that you are grieving and have much left to accomplish. I was taken by your statement regarding the world going on as if nothing has changed. For the general population, those not knowing of Mattie and all of you, you're right nothing has changed, but, for all of us, who love and support your family, our world has certainly changed. I, too, thought of Mattie when we were at Disney World. Our family met for dinner at Downtown Disney and what was there but a LegoLand Exhibit and store. I went looking through the store and had many sensations of Mattie as I glanced at the kits and pieces. I'm sure that he would have had a ball just picking out what he was going to tackle next. Your rawness and grief is still so new and the world does go on as do we, in spite of what we feel. I remember how often I speak of my parents, individually and collectively, when something triggers a memory. Sometimes, they are full of joy and others produce tears, occasionally, anger abounds too. I think the boxes created at Lombardi speak volumes of the impact that Mattie and your family has had on many. They are living memorials to your special Angel. I am so happy that you can think about the clinic, Georgetown, and all of the staff in a positive way, as an extension of your family, because, you are so right, when you say many never want to be around these painful memories again. For you and Peter, especially you, they will serve as a healing spot and a place where you may share your talents in the future. Vicki, may you draw just a bit of comfort from all these pictures and objects that speak of and for Mattie during these days, weeks, months right now. That is what you have, moments, and there are so many beautiful ones. With much love and a big MattieBear hug!"