Tonight's picture was taken in March 2009. Mattie loved this rainbow balloon that Linda (Mattie's childlife specialist) gave him in celebration of the Hospital's opening party for the children's art gallery. Rainbow's are very symbolic and this balloon seemed to signal a ray of hope in our lives. Mattie played with that balloon quite a bit when he was home, and I am so happy I captured his beautiful smile as he was sitting under that rainbow.
Poem of the day: When I Close My Eyes by Audrey Szabo
When I close my eyes, I can see you so clearly
Reliving the memories of you is second nature now
All I do is search my heart and
Carefully chose the memory for the day
These memories are both a saving grace and
Everlasting reminder of the stabbing numbness within my heart
Memories of the innocence of your eyes shining so brightly
Memories of the sound of your laughter so pure
Memories of the mere miracle of you
Memories of you the most important part of my life
No one can see you the way I can, when I close my eyes
When I close my eyes, I can see you so clearly
I can see the wind ruffling your hair
I can see you playing in the rain
I can see you peacefully floating on water without a care in the world
I can see you smile when a wish spoken by you has come true
No one can see you the way I can, when I close my eyes
When I close my eyes, I can see you so clearly BUT
I cannot hold you in my arms
I cannot surprise you with kisses on your cheek
I cannot tenderly touch your face
Resenting these can not’s because
They are more than I can handle but
Without these memories I cannot be with you
So with my love, hopes, and dreams
I will not be lonely for you, for
When I close my eyes, I see you
Peter and I worked on Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation (MMCF) tasks for most of the day. At breakfast, Peter explained to me how important it is to have our "asks" in writing. Naturally I had no idea what he was talking about at first. MMCF is an official charitable organization, and as such, we can begin to apply for grants as well as register our website on other electronic sites that promote non-profit groups. Corporations and other groups will be inspired to support us if we have a concrete plan of objectives and goals. So I spent the day brainstorming my vision for MMCF, a vision that I hope will inspire the support that is needed to adequately address a very vital and imperative cause.... finding more effective treatments for Osteosarcoma and assisting patients and their families cope with the psychosocial impact of pediatric cancer.
I have felt tremendous guilt for not being more actively involved in the Foundation. However, stepping back, I realize that I will be no use to the Foundation, if I don't address my own issues and needs. Despite my feelings of guilt, I have been giving the Foundation great thought, and when Peter asked me to put some of my goals in writing today, I did not have very deep to search. I have five very concrete "asks" that have been whirling around in my head. I felt very productive actually putting thoughts into actual words.
Peter and I also discussed the upcoming walk on May 23, and our vision for this event. It is daunting to get started on these plans, but this is something that I really wanted to accomplish this year. Fortunately Peter and I have Ann and a great planning committee to make this a reality. A walk is a wonderful way to keep Mattie's memory alive, to celebrate our osteosarcoma and other pediatric cancer survivors that we know, and to continue to educate the public about osteosarcoma. A disease that will always be a part of Peter and I.
This evening I had the opportunity to have dinner with a close friend. Amany and I have known each other for over 15 years, and we survived a doctoral program together. As a result of Mattie's death, I shut out many people I was close to. I believe this happens for various reasons, but mainly because I needed to protect myself from dealing with emotions and feelings I was not ready to handle. It will be a very slow process for me as I begin to re-engage with others, but I have been through a terrible trauma and loss, and I can only do as much as I can tolerate and bear in any given week. Amany and I discussed the impact of Mattie's loss on my life. Of course listening to this is not easy, but not only is Amany my friend, but she was trained as a grief counselor. So sitting in pain is not something novel to her, yet I am aware of the fact that it is much harder to see someone you care about in this position. I do see that even though Mattie has been gone for six months, I haven't grieved for six months. As some of you may remember, I was numb for about the first four months or longer. So it is only now that I am letting my guard down and beginning to feel or accept the reality of the loss. So chronologically I am six months into this process, but emotionally this is like a new loss for me. This was an important concept for me to acknowledge. We also discussed why I continue to write the blog. I reflected on this while I was on vacation, but my main reason for writing the blog is not for others or even for myself really. I write the blog to keep Mattie's memory alive. Each day I share a picture, a story, or explore the impact of his death on me. All the while, my goal is to honor Mattie. He suffered so, and will forever be missed. Which is why I am committed to write this blog for at least a year. September 8, 2009 (Mattie's death) to September 8, 2010. Despite the fact that I am going through one of life's worst possible crises, I am very thankful to have people around me who want to help and support me through something that seems impossible.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Followed by a poem my mom sent me today. Charlie wrote, "Comedy is a fine line between things which you can relate to and things you cannot. Watch the audience in a comedy show and there is always someone not laughing when it seems everyone else is in hysterics. I am glad that most of the comedy the other night made you laugh; time for laughter is very important, especially now. I too saw the moon yesterday and my first thought was "Mattie Moon". I know after these couple of years that I will never see the moon again in quite the same way. It was nice to see the picture of Mattie with the cherry blossoms and I remember you blogging about that last year; I wonder what this year will bring with respect to the cherry blossom "show" as many of the trees were damaged by the winter storms. In spite of that they will bloom, scars and all. So too for you I think, you will find a way to bloom in spite of your emotional scars. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
My mom sent me this poem entitled, "The Cab Ride." I found it very moving, especially in light of the time I spend with Mary and her roommate, Florence. I definitely believe how you make other people feel is what is ultimately remembered about you. Not what you have said or accomplished in life!
----------------------------------------
The Cab Ride
I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
After waiting a few minutes
I walked to the
door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a
frail, elderly voice. I could hear something
being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in
her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a
print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned
on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon
suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years. All the furniture was
covered with sheets.
There were no
clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils
on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag
out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase
to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked
slowly toward the curb.
She kept
thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I
told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers
the way I would want my mother
treated'.
'Oh, you're such a good
boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave
me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'
'It's not the
shortest way,' I answered quickly..
'Oh, I don't mind,' she
said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a
hospice'.
I looked in the rear-view
mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have
any family left,' she continued in a soft
voice.. 'The doctor says I don't have very
long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me
to take?' I asked.
For the next two
hours, we drove through the city. She showed me
the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator.
We drove through the
neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in
front of a furniture warehouse that had once
been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a
girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow
in front of a particular building or corner and
would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was
creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm
tired. Let's go now'.
We drove in
silence to the address she had given me. It was
a low building, like a small convalescent home,
with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to
the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were
solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to
the door. The woman was already seated in a
wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?'
she asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She
held onto me tightly.
'You gave an
old woman a little moment of joy,' she said.
'Thank you.'
I squeezed her
hand, and then walked into the dim morning
light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound
of the closing of a life..
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove
aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that
day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had
gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient
to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything
more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve
around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully
wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL
ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
No comments:
Post a Comment