Sunday, December 6, 2009Tonight's picture was taken in Mattie's kindergarten classroom. He is showcasing one of his writer's workshop stories. In writer's workshop, Mattie would illustrate a story, and then underneath the story try to formulate a sentence to describe the picture. I was always told by Mattie's teachers that he never had trouble coming up with a story or illustration.
Poem of the day (Thanks Kristi, a fellow Osteo mom): Come with me.
God saw that he was getting tired,
And a cure was not to be.
So He put His arms around him
And whispered, "Come with Me."
With tearful eyes we watched him suffer,
And saw him fade away.
Although we loved him dearly,
We could not make him stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
Loving hands put to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove
He only takes the BEST!
Peter and I started out the day discussing our plans for the Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation. Peter is working very hard at putting together materials to share with our board on Tuesday. As we were talking, I began to cry because I want to help Peter with these things, but I just physically and emotionally can't at the moment. Concentrating on anything is difficult for me, not to mention reading and researching topics. The lack of concentration is just one of the many signs and symptoms I have from dealing with profound grief. Nonetheless it is a very frustrating aftermath. Peter and I talked through how I was feeling and I eventually mustered the energy to work on a mission statement for the Foundation.
I am onto my next craft project for the week, as I am helping Ann with designing five gingerbread houses from scratch. My lifetime friend, Karen, had me laughing today, because she sent me a message asking me whether I ever thought of turning my creativity into a business. I am not doing her message justice, because it was how she stated this to me, with such details down to the layout of the store that made me chuckle. In any case, designing gingerbread houses began for me when Mattie was in preschool. It was a joint venture, because his teacher, Margaret, let me borrow her cast iron gingerbread house mold. Mattie and I baked two houses and brought them into school for his classmates to decorate. It was a major hit. So as I bake these five houses now (again using Margaret's cast iron mold), I can't help but be transformed back to his preschool days. In fact, last night while I was baking the second house, I looked out the window and saw a huge moon. All I could think of was my "Mattie Moon." He wasn't physically baking with me, but his presence was felt nonetheless, shining down on me.
Later today, I went to visit Mary (Ann's mom). Mary wasn't feeling well, but despite that, we chatted and I sat with her while having dinner. Her table mate was back, and we picked up our conversation from where we left off last night. Mary told me that he was actually looking for me at lunch time. I told you last night that Mary's tablemate wears a hat that says, "Life is too short." However, there is a second line which is much smaller on his hat and I had to get closer to him today to read the entire statement ...... "Life is too short, eat dessert first." This fits his personality and joy for life. I have enjoyed interacting with him both nights. As we get closer to Christmas, Mary too, seems to be sadder and more upset by the fact that her family has gotten smaller this year. I understand this sadness all too well, which she is very aware of.
Tonight, Peter and I cooked dinner together, using a recipe from one of the new cookbooks we bought. We both laughed at the final outcome, because if we were to make this dish again, it would need to be revamped. In our lives, laughter is so infrequent so when we do it together, we take notice. As I am writing the blog, Peter is watching TV. He asked me to stop typing and to look at the TV, and then he quickly said to me.... What movie is this? Remember I am an old movie fanatic, so I immediately knew the movie was "The Bishop's Wife." Which is a very charming Christmas movie starring Cary Grant and David Niven. It is one of my favorite holiday movies along with "The Bells of St. Mary" starring Bing Crosby. Somehow, seeing this movie on TV brought a smile to my face. It reminds me of happier times, and I am saddened that I never got the chance to introduce Mattie to some of these wonderful movies. A great line from "The Bishop's Wife" is,"The only people who grow old, were born old to begin with." Simple but profound.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first one is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I know it seems impossible that a bond as strong as the one between you and Mattie would ever be broken and perhaps it is not. I know that you walk alone now, without him physically by your side but I cannot help but believe his spirit lives on in the hearts and minds of those who knew him and those who never had the opportunity but admired his courage from afar. There is great temptation to immerse yourself in memories and not come up for air, but that really doesn't honor the memory of who Mattie was; he was someone who was intensely involved in life. Every time you do the same, as painful as it may be, you honor him. Grief needs to be walked like a tightrope; a fine balance between now and then, past and present. As you find your balance, your center, many of us are here to help, to listen, to strengthen you and to grieve with you in our own ways so that your tears don't fall without company. May today find you able to balance a little longer. I hold you gently in my thoughts."The second message is from my friend and colleague, Nancy. Nancy wrote, "I, like, Charlie, am grateful for your friendship. What a lovely trio of holiday trees! I am glad that you gave yourself this project. It is so fitting that within your aching heart, you would want to give a special gift to your dear friend. This is the Christmas season as I understand it. I know that this holiday is especially difficult as it is often a holiday for one's children. Abigail's story was beautiful and a meaningful treasure for you. Mattie did and has touched many lives throughout his short life. Each one of us who care for your family will continue to remember that forever. I believe that each of these connections are his way of saying 'I love you, Mommy.' As I checked in today and over the last few days, the same picture has come up on the revolving album. It is the one of Mattie crouching in the snow. He looked like he was having fun and since it has been there often, I felt it was a sign of his feeling safe because of Peter and you. Then when I got back to look at yesterday's message, there he was sticking his tongue out. Initially, I just thought this cute and then I saw that it was snowing and that he was probably trying to catch the snowflakes on his tongue. What a beautiful, simple way to experience the world! He had so many special times with each of you. You gave him all that children need to meet the challenges of life and that he did, supremely! I think your story about the last visit with this neurologist is a lesson for us all. He didn't react in a comforting way the first time and you let him know it. He is a listener because once you shared your feelings and thoughts about his behavior, he greeted you very differently the next time. I am glad that you were able to evoke this response from him as you need to trust that he can help with your migraines. The pain in your head seems to reflect the pain in your heart. I wish you a simple day, a self caring day today. Continue to listen to your heart and accept what you can as you can. The world is here to be of help to Peter and you however you need it. It is our turn to give back to you."
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