Tonight's picture was taken in November 2002. Mattie was 7 months old, and was fascinated by the oak tree changing colors outside our window. It is hard to tell from this picture, but Mattie is wearing a puppy dog hat which made him look simply adorable. It was one of my favorite hats on him.
Poem of the day: No Fear in Heaven by Ferna Lary Mills
There are so many things in life that we can't understand,
like why a tragedy like this can happen in this land.
One moment life is perfect and the next it falls apart,
leaving us with nothing but an eternally aching heart.
Our souls cry out in agony amidst the suffering and despair.
We feel the pain and tear our clothes and scream "It isn't fair!"
Spirits are now shattered. Hearts will never be the same.
We grasp at straws and seek to find the one who is to blame.
Horrific as our life now seems, one thing remains quite true.
Our little ones have now been freed to do things angels do.
They can't recall the horrors of those last days they were here.
They remember not the terror, the hurt, nor the fear.
There is no fear in Heaven. No more sorrow. Only Joy.
It's filled with joyous laughter from each little girl and boy.
We can only try to imagine, in spite of all earthly wrongs,
our little angels are learning the words to the Angel's songs.
Amidst the children's laughter and their Heavenly play,
there's also more important work going on there today.
Jesus is building mansions, never taking time to sleep,
for Reunions are being planned, yes, even as we weep.
The children gather around Him and listen to Him speak,
for He has all the answers that they curiously seek.
He tells them for a time, in Heaven, they must wait,
and then they can meet us at Heaven's pearly gate.
This morning I was scheduled for a sonogram of my kidneys. I have chronic issues, which have recently flared back up. In order to sit for the sonogram however, I had to drink 32 ounces of water in one hour and then hold it. That may not sound very hard to do, but for me, consuming so much liquid and holding it in, is almost impossible. I was able to drive to the hospital for the test, but while sitting in the reception area, awaiting to be called by the tech, I thought I was going to burst. It was during that time that I text messaged Peter. I actually brought a book with me, thinking I was going to read while waiting. What a joke, as my pain started to intensify, I thought I was going to throw the book at someone. Peter tried very hard virtually to support me through this. Certainly such a procedure is nothing to get worried about or complain about in comparison to what Mattie had to endure. I could easily rationalize that, but then I also have to remember my body and mind are frayed from the battle with Osteosarcoma. Things that never bothered me in the past, now bother me very much. In addition, I was once a somewhat confident individual, and now even that has been rocked and there are days my self-concept is on shaky grounds. The only saving grace is the sonogram was only 15 minutes long. After this was all over, I called Peter to thank him for being there for me, despite working and being in a meeting.
I spent part of the day at home today. While at home, I started looking at Mattie's pictures. Somehow seeing one picture after the other, I landed up crying and could not stop. It is in times like this I feel so confused, upset, and angry over what happened to Mattie. I have also received some lovely and very moving e-mails this week from Team Mattie supporters. I am not sure why I never realized this, but I now see that people are deeply affected by reading the blog. Though I try very hard to capture my feelings and describe what I am going through, I sometimes am not sure I am adequately conveying the sentiments. Mainly because I think the English language is limited in describing the nuances of grief. Nonetheless, this week I realized that my words are deeply impacting others, their lives, as well as their outlook on the future. It certainly is not my goal to depress my readers or give anyone an existential crisis. At first I felt bad that others are so affected, but then I had to step back from that feeling. Instead I am honored that my words are that powerful, I am moved that others would continue reading the blog despite how they are affected, and most importantly I am humbled that Mattie's life and death has had such a profound impact on those who knew him directly or indirectly. We live in a world where death and dying are neither understood or even talked about. However, this is a fact of life, and unfortunately my daily fact of life, which I need to talk about and process. In doing so, this helps me honor and keep Mattie's memory alive. Tonight, I was e-mailing my lifetime friend, Karen, back and forth. I was telling her about my day, and I explained to her that Mattie's pictures set me off today. She then told me that she was going through paperwork and files this weekend, and came across all of Mattie's Christmas cards and birth announcement. She said that these items upset her too, but I told her I was honored that she saved all these things. I am not sure why I was surprised, maybe because I figured Mattie's pictures weren't as important to others as they are to me. But Karen is a sentimentalist like myself, never the less, this whole conversation made me smile.
In the midst of crying today, Ann happened to send me a text message. In my response to her, I told her I was upset, and the next thing I knew she was calling me. Typically when I am upset, I am in no mood to talk. But there was something about today's sadness, that made me happy that someone was checking on me, and was there to listen to how Mattie's pictures made me feel. I still have a hard time verbalizing my feelings at times, and am trying to work on being more forgiving to myself. The words and feelings will come outwardly as I am ready.
After I composed myself, I decided to go out to the shopping mall and walk around. That helped to clear my head. When Peter came home, he told me about his meeting with Tamra today. Tamra is a SSSAS parent, a friend, and on the Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation board of directors. Tamra and her family helped us tremendously while Mattie was in the hospital, and we are grateful for her continued support. Peter and I chatted over dinner, and we are working hard on connecting through the pain.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Like you I feel children belong with their parents who love them, not somewhere else. However, when they are taken by illness or accident and they are no longer able to stay on earth with us, I think most of us hope we will meet them again someday. I agree with you that it is all surreal somehow, I half expect that I will open the blog one day and read that it was a mistake and Mattie is still here. Unlike you, since he was in your life every day, I get to imagine him away playing at camp or somewhere else fun for him. What you said about fear of forgetting: I’ve read that in a number of grief books. So many people are afraid they will forget how their loved one looked, sounded, smelled, felt. I don’t know what to tell you, but for me, smell is the strongest memory and when I smell my mother’s perfume, she could instantly be in the room with me. Perhaps one sense is stronger than the others for you; perhaps you can call on that when you feel a need to have him close. As always I hold you gently in my thoughts and I wish you a space of serenity today."
The second message is from one of my teaching assistants who I have had the pleasure of working with and getting to know over the years. Liz wrote, "The blog's pictures for the past two days have been very jarring to me. Such beautiful pictures of Mattie at an age where all you had for him was hope and dreams about what his future may hold. It's probably because I'm a new mom but I feel like these images give me some insight into the devastation you must be experiencing. My heart breaks for you and Peter. Each time I write an email to you, the word "unfair" is on replay in my head. It is just too unfair and too hard to make sense of. You are a champion of champions to continue on as you are, honoring Mattie's memory through the blog, the foundation, and trying to find the good in life after such a senseless loss. Much love to you."
No comments:
Post a Comment