Thursday, February 4, 2010

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Tonight's pictures were taken in April 2007, Mattie was five years old. It was our tradition each April to take Mattie to the US Botanical Gardens in Washington, DC. April is when the azaleas are in full bloom. It is a spectacular sight, that goes on for miles, along a pretty tree lined trail. This beauty seemed to be well timed with Mattie's birthday, as if the flowers were screaming out in celebration of the day. Though I typically post one picture a night, I posted two tonight because I wanted to show you the amazing colors that surrounded us. The colors are almost too perfect, only of which can be created by nature. Based on how I have been feeling the past couple of days, I felt the need to locate pictures with Mattie and I together. Somehow I needed to see our closeness, and thank goodness there are photos and videos to pull from in order to keep these memories alive and real.  

Poem of the day: You will never be forgotten by Jessica Andrews

I'll always see your face

The corner of your smile

And all the little things no one will ever know
Like it was yesterday, won't ever fade away
Goodbye is just a word I'll never say.
You will never be forgotten
A million days could pass us by
But what is time but just a dream
Oh I still feel you here with me
You're more than just a memory
Oh you will never be forgotten.
I can't hold your hand
Or look into your eyes
And when I talk to you
It just echoes in my mind
But if hearts are made of dust
And we fell from the stars
I look up tonight and know just where you are
You will never be forgotten
A million days could pass us by
But what is time but just a dream
Oh I still feel you here with me
You're more than just a memory
Oh you will never be forgotten.
And the world just keeps on going
It has no way of knowing that you're gone
You will never be forgotten
A million days could pass us by
But what is time but just a dream
Oh I still feel you here with me
You're more than just a memory
Oh you will never be forgotten.

As the poem says, "I still feel you here with me." This is a powerful line, and until today, I may have only read this line but not really felt its significance. Today, I had several moments where I actually felt Mattie with me. I had to take Patches, our calico cat, to the vet this morning. She is being boarded there for the next several weeks. For my readers who are cat fans, DO NOT feel bad for Patches. She got a greeting from all the people at the vet today, it was so amazing I thought I was in the presence of a celebrity. This particular vet not only sent Peter and I cards while Mattie was ill, but spoiled Patches royally while she stayed there for over a year. While there, Patches has free rein to walk around the facility, and also gets to play with all the care workers. They were thrilled to have her back!

I placed Patches in her cat travel box without a problem, and then when I placed her in my car, I put her box in the back seat behind me, and seat belted her in. It was the simple act of placing her behind me and buckling her into the car, that triggered something in my head. As I was driving, I was literally confused. I kept thinking that Mattie was behind me and not Patches. I can't quite explain this, I naturally know Mattie is gone, but there was a presence in the car with me. Typically Patches is VERY vocal in car rides, screams the whole way to the vet. But not today, she was very quiet, and I couldn't help but wonder why. In the past, Mattie would sit with her in the back and try to distract her to calm her down. Patches behavior only confirmed my feelings about Mattie being with us today. In any case, all of this was very emotional for me, and while driving to the vet, I was crying. In fact, one pedestrian looked at me while he was crossing the street, and simply smiled at me while I waited for him to pass by. It was almost as if he wanted to tell me whatever I was crying about, it would be okay. Little does he know! After I dropped off Patches however, the feeling within the car changed, whatever I experienced was gone.

This afternoon, I had the opportunity to see Mary, Ann's mom. Mary wasn't feeling well and really needed to rest. Despite not being herself, Mary always reflects on two things with me. She admires Mattie's jewelry and always asks about my mom. It is almost like my personal checks to see just how she is doing in a given day. At some point today, Ann and I went shopping together. She was looking for a gift or two, and in the midst of this we also tried on clothes. It seems like ages since I did this with a friend, honestly the only time I can recall doing this was in college. Which I assure you was a long time ago. It is ironic how certain activities can bring you back in time.

When I got home later in the day, I figured I better start packing for my weekend trip to Los Angeles.  In a way, it will be strange coming off the plane in LA with just myself. There will be no Mattie in tow. Mattie loved airplane adventures and going to LA, so a part of me in sad to be traveling without him, and I am sure my parents are also trying to find their way with these feelings as well.

I am not sure why I did not realize how difficult a day it was going to be. The piece of luggage I needed to pack happens to be the suitcase that I actually used for Mattie and I throughout his year of treatment at Georgetown. Some of you may recall that I haven't touched that bag. I never unpacked it, and just as I sealed it on September 8 in the hospital, this is how it looked when I opened it today. Totally overwhelming! Based on how I packed the bag, you can tell the kind of chaos and turmoil I was in on September 8, as Peter and I were coming home from the hospital right after Mattie died. Inside the bag was of course Mattie's clothes, cute socks, his toothbrush, an angel ornament (which I am leaving in the bag), and a ton of medical supplies that I always traveled around with. As I removed each item, I quickly began to see that this was too much! In fact, when I told Karen about all that was transpiring, she suggested I leave the luggage as is, and buy another bag. She and I are both attached to objects and they serve as reminders to us about events and people. I did manage to get through the afternoon, but as you can imagine Mattie's things come with memories, and his fragrance it attached to everything. However, I can safely tell you that all my hospital clothes..... I would love to burn! I never want to wear them again, and can't wait to get rid of them. They only bring back our battle with cancer, in fact while in the hospital I think I even referred to them as my uniform!

In the midst of my emotional outbursts today, Ann called periodically. Sometimes she found me whole, and at other times, I was teary. In the midst of all these moments, I received a beautiful e-mail from Katie, Zachary's mom. Zachary was Mattie's closest preschool friend. In fact, Zachary and Mattie to some extent were like soul mates. They had an instant and intense rapport with each other in preschool. Though they made other friends along the way, there was something different about their bond. Katie told me in her e-mail that Zachary still talks about Mattie each day, and as I told her that this proves to me that some bonds transcend space and time. The bond is everlasting, and I find just like in preschool, I continue to learn from Zachary. I sense that Zachary is concerned about me, since he knows what it feels like to lose Mattie. Katie told me Zachary wants to give me a hug and check in on me. Zachary's thoughtfulness and compassion gave me pause, but then again, I think Zachary's passion is one of the things that Mattie admired in his buddy. Though I would prefer that Zachary and I had Mattie in our lives, I do acknowledge these special moments when I can see Mattie's memory alive and well within his friends.

I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I am a lot like you and I tend to plan things way in advance. I too was of the "no long flights for short visits" club until my Dad passed away and then I realized that the most precious thing I had was time with someone. Take a book, some needlework, talk to Ann on the flights and know that the time you will spend with your parents is precious and well worth the trouble. I know that they miss Mattie deeply and it is important that they not feel they have "lost" you as well. I am glad you are planning this getaway with Peter and your parents; it is not running away, you can't run from grief but perhaps some new things to see and do will help you balance your feelings. As for the comments about having a layer stripped away, I think it is realization on another level that time is limited and precious and to waste it in "small talk" and unimportant things is the wrong thing to do. As I practice today and search for patience with myself (one of my biggest shortcomings), I will send my positive energy to you to encourage you to do the same."

The second message is from a colleague of mine. Susan knows quite well that I do not like to fly, and she wrote to me today since I am headed on a plane tomorrow. Susan wrote, "I know I haven't written to you in many months, but I want you to know that I am still an avid daily blog reader. It's become habit for me to start my day with the blog. It certainly helps to put everything into perspective, and I remain a steadfast supporter for you and Peter as you navigate your way through these days, weeks, and months. Do you remember my story about turbulence on an airplane? I remember us having this conversation several years ago during one of our meetings when you expressed some anxiety over air travel. My story was that air turbulence is caused by angels who are so excited to accompany us on our travels that sometimes they just get too rambunctious and hit the bottom or sides of the plane. Although I certainly don't wish you any turbulence on your flight, do you suppose its possible that there may be a very special, personal angel accompanying you on this trip? We may be better off if we choose to believe in stories that assist us in growing through the turbulence of life. Happy and safe travels, Vicki, and the same to Peter."