Tonight's picture was taken when Mattie was seven months old. Mattie was hesitant for the longest time to get into the bathtub. But once he got used to it, I couldn't get him out of it. Mattie literally would take hour long baths, and as he got older, he would sometimes jump into the tub without any water in it, and just play in the tub fully clothed. When he would do this, it always made me laugh!
Poem of the day: Thought I'd never have to... by Raquel Calderon
I knew this day would eventually come
But I never thought it would be now
He was so precious, he was the one
Who would change my life some how.
You are not supposed to bury your children
They are supposed to bury you
It's hard to think this disease would take him
And there is nothing I can do.
It was so hard to say those words
Because we all loved him so
I didn't want him to suffer any more
So I had to let him go.
His passing was so hard to handle
But has made us oh so strong
We know the road will be a battle
But he is where he belongs.
Tonight's poem, Thought I'd never have to, is a title I can relate to, after all I never knew Mattie would develop cancer, die, and we would have to plan his funeral. Even writing this seems surreal. Children are not supposed to die before their parents. When this happens, it does make you question everything about life and its reality. Though I know Mattie was in terrible pain and was suffering, a part of me just can't accept the message at the end of this poem, in that "he is where he belongs." If he was where he belonged, Mattie would be with Peter and I.
Last night, I was placing a membership card to a professional association into my wallet, and while looking through my things, I noticed a piece of notebook paper in my wallet. Do you want to know what was on this paper? It was a picture drawn by Mattie, specifically a picture of me and Mattie together. In fact, Mattie wrote "mom" and "Matt" on the piece of paper, next to the respective picture. I normally have a solid memory for things like this, but I honestly do not remember when Mattie drew this picture or even when I decided to put it in my wallet. So I was truly surprised, almost stunned, to find this Mattie creation.
Though grieving is a horrible feeling, the worst part about this whole experience is trying to remember. Because I don't see Mattie and interact with him everyday, in a way part of the simpler and more beautiful parts of him fade into my memory. I desperately try on a regular basis to remember his face, his smile, his eyes, and his voice. However, as time passes, I have to reach deeper and deeper into the recesses of my mind to keep this picture alive. Sure I could look at pictures or even perhaps videos, but it isn't the same. None of these things capture Mattie's true spirit and essence. Mattie will always be a part of me, but it pains me that I struggle to remember my times with him and my role as his mom. It is almost as if this battle with cancer and losing Mattie happened in another lifetime of mine. It has dawned on me tonight that perhaps I am trying to connect with other children as my attempt to ultimately keep my memory of Mattie alive. Being around children is lively and at times it can't help but call to mind the sights and sounds of Mattie.
I spent part of the day with Ann, working on things for her daughter, Abigail's, upcoming birthday party. In addition, I had the opportunity to help the family I have been telling you about. I am happy to report the little girls' dad is home from the hospital today!
When Peter got home tonight he told me he was feeling "blue." He did not need to say much else, I understood completely. Each day now feels like the day before, in which the joy and happiness have been sucked out of life. It is very disconcerting. I could try to describe how we feel to you, but I wouldn't be doing in justice. The scary part though is that I can imagine living the rest of my life in this current state. The prospect of this is daunting.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "As always I stand in awe of your grace in dealing with the conflict that being around children raises. It is incredibly hard to hear about events and experiences you (and Mattie) no longer share with others but you find ways to bridge the gap. I know that Ann and Alison were happy to have you there at the lunch; you have a very special bond with both of them that I think will continue to grow and deepen with time. Childcare is a wonderful gift to give the mom of those two little girls so that she can be at the hospital without worrying; many people in your situation would not do it although I think it helps with healing as well as giving you a chance to give back. I understand about intangible gifts; people often wish for more time with someone who is gone or for the ability to maintain hope or another positive emotion; we all wish we could do this for you. I will keep you gently in my thoughts."
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