Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Tonight's picture was taken in December 2003. Mattie was 1 1/2 years old. Peter and I took Mattie to Lowe's, and as you can see in the picture, Mattie was fascinated by the Christmas lights and the holiday displays at the store. It turns out that one of the pictures we took of Mattie that afternoon at Lowe's, became the cover of our Christmas card. Peter and I always laughed about that Christmas card. Because, Mattie had to be secured into a shopping cart and have all the displays at Lowe's around to capture his attention long enough to slow him down to snap a picture.

Poem of the day: They Say There is a Reason

They say there is a reason,
They say that time will heal,
But neither time nor reason,
Will change the way I feel,
For no-one knows the heartache,
That lies behind our smiles,
No-one knows how many times,
We have broken down and cried,
We want to tell you something,
So there won't be any doubt,
You're so wonderful to think of,
But so hard to be without.



This poem says it all.... there is NO REASON for Mattie's death that is acceptable to me and TIME WON'T heal my wounds. Most definitely I agree with this poem, there are many, many tears behind my smiles. I couldn't have said it better myself.

I had the opportunity to attend a cookie exchange party at Ann's house today. I had never been to a cookie exchange, but for those of you who are as clueless as I am, I will explain what happened. Seven women participated, and each baked 7 dozen cookies, or basically a dozen cookies to be given to each person attending the party. So by the time the party is over, each person leaves the party with seven different types of cookies. Mary, Ann's mom, also came to the party, and I had the opportunity to spend a good part of the day with her.

I entered this party on heightened alert. I just felt uneasy about this, maybe because I haven't slept well in two days, I have a massive headache, or to put it plain and simple, I am cautious now around surrounding myself by other moms. For those moms who intimately went through Mattie's battle with me, I am far more comfortable interacting with them. But socializing with other moms now is very difficult for me. I no longer feel part of the mom world, and therefore, I purposefully remain on the periphery to protect myself. Completely unintentional, however, some of today's conversations made me not only upset but at times angry. I was angered because what I view as something to get stressed out about or to complain about is so far off the normal day to day continuum for most people. I am not down playing the stresses others are experiencing by any stretch of the imagination, because we each have our own tolerance level for issues in our lives. However, this discrepancy between myself and other moms did signal to me once again, that I am VERY different. That wasn't a good feeling for me. The irony is Mary turned to me and said exactly what I could not... which was I was "sad" to be surrounded by other moms and not have Mattie with me. It was at that point, that I had to separate myself from the entire group and went to another floor in Ann's house. I had many moments today in which I was in tears. When I migrated to another floor, Ann must have noticed my disappearance and came looking for me.

Ann sat with me, as I cried and just felt depressed. It is a low of lows, when I feel I can't pull out of this and nothing is going to make my situation better. It certainly wasn't my intention to worry Ann or to have her look for me. I removed myself specifically because I want others and especially Ann to be able to enjoy their time together without me crying and changing the mood or focus of the party. I mentioned this to Ann and her reaction was I was "worthy" of being concerned about and that I should let her chose what and how she wants to spend her time.

Ann was trying to get me to eat today, but because I have such an intense headache, it is affecting my view of food. I was able to eat dinner tonight, so I view that as some sort of progress. This afternoon, I helped Ann prepare some of the dishes she plans on serving tomorrow, and what I began to see during this past week, is that in essence Ann has allowed me into her world of family holiday traditions such as cooking, baking, and decorating. While I have been doing things all week, I was pretty much oblivious to this fact, until I slowed down to absorb all that we did together in a few short days. In any case, I guess what I am trying to say is since Mattie's death I have felt directionless and the holidays make me feel even more uncertain. But in the midst of this emotional chaos, it is very special to have someone who intimately lived Mattie's treatment with Peter and I, try to make me feel a part of something.

It was funny, while I was in the kitchen with Ann, her younger daughter, Abigail was requesting that her mother make her pasta. It was the way Abigail asked Ann, as well as the type of pasta she was asking for, that reminded me of Mattie. It made me stop and I even said to Abigail that her request reminded me of someone. She knew exactly who I meant. I have noticed that conversations about Mattie capture Abigail's attention, which only indicates to me that his friendship meant something to her.

It is ironic, being surrounded by children should be hard for me, and yes at times it is. Intensely hard, but somehow their energy is refreshing and reminds me of Mattie. As I was sitting with Mary today, Katie, Ann's oldest daughter, came up to Mary to hug her and say good-bye to her before she left to see a movie. I have seen Katie say good-bye to Mary numerous times before, but what I wasn't expecting, is after she said good-bye to Mary, she put her arm around me to say good-bye. Perhaps to my readers this doesn't sound like anything out of the ordinary, and maybe you are right, but to me, I felt as if Katie was trying to tell me something. We spend a lot of time together and I guess it just meant something to me that she feels comfortable enough to connect with me. After how I felt today, this innocent gesture meant a great deal to me.

When I got home tonight, Peter and I had dinner together. Peter could tell I had a lot on my mind, and though I couldn't verbalize things at first. He was persistent, and he was able to help me process some of my anger and feelings. We are both so fragile that some times what people say to us or don't say to us usually sets us off. Not talking about Mattie and not asking us about him not only makes us uncomfortable but this is asking us to pretend or put on a facade that things are NORMAL. I may have been able to do this at one time, but I can not anymore. My friend Karen tells me all the time, in jest, that I have every right in certain instances to just tell people straight out how I perceive them. I am not doing Karen's way of phrasing this justice, but it always gets me to laugh.

I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages and then a link to another song. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Pain can be threefold, physical, emotional and/or mental and it sounds like you are suffering from all three. I hope that your physical illness at least can be addressed this week so that you don't have to continue to suffer that on top of everything else. I know you were concerned that all the connections you made while Mattie was alive would be lost after his death but it is clear that you and Peter have also touched the hearts of everyone you've come in contact with. The offers and concern from Mattie's physicians are very special and reflect the respect that they have for you as a person and as Mattie's mom. I really enjoyed your mom's story about the Christmas of 2007; what a lovely gift to get from her at this time of year. I am sure that her memories spurred even more details in your own thoughts. Today as many people "ramp up" frantically toward the holiday, I wish you the love and peace that the holiday was meant to convey. You are, as always, in my thoughts."



The second message is from a former student and now my friend, Susan. Susan wrote, "Wow Vicki, has it really been 15 weeks since Mattie left us? He is still such a part of my day to day existence. I can't even begin to tell you how many times a day he comes to mind. It doesn't matter where I am or what I am doing.... there's Mattie!Especially now when Ari & I are shopping. I'll be browsing and VOILA I pick up something thinking Mattie would love this!! And then I remember that he's gone. Sadness dampens my spirits like a hand in a soggy mitten feels cold. Ariel utters only one word, Mattie? She knows. To add a twist to an old Christmas line, "Yes Victoria, there is a Mattie and he is with so many of us."On Saturday Ari & Eric went on a photo shoot, yes in the snow. They went to Roosevelt Island and I asked they take a picture of if for me . I've attached it as I thought you might enjoy it.Vic, I'm not good at writing my thoughts or feelings so I hope this relays to you that Mattie is remembered by many of us."

As I was driving home tonight, I heard a song by Carrie Underwood entitled, Temporary Home. I must admit I did not pay attention to the first part of the song, but when I heard the words, Temporary Home, the song immediately caught my attention. In many ways, Mattie's temporary home was with Peter and I, perhaps not where he belonged, just a a mere stop onto where he was going. Any case, if you want to hear this song, click on the link below.

http://musicremedy.com/audio/index.cfm?fuseaction=showvideoplayer&audioid=39157&quality=10