Tonight's picture was taken in March 2009. The Hospital gave us wonderful box seats to see the circus. Mattie went with us and Peter's parents. It was a memorable night for him. It was Mattie's first and last trip to the circus. We bought Mattie all sorts of things at the circus, all of which had lights on them. He loved it! I captured him smiling and wearing all of his circus gear. I remember this night like it were yesterday.
Poem of the day: Will There Ever Be Life Again? by Gailyn Sadurski
I sit here, outside, on a chair
I sense the cool wet breeze blow over my body
I hear the traffic from a few streets over, cars going and coming
I see the gentle mist fall
People drive by, talking on their cell phones going to places
Children in the yard playing, gleefully running in the rain
And I feel nothing
Like I am a mannequin, posed to simply watch life go by
A bystander, like a child not chosen for the school yard games
I know warm water runs over me in the shower
I see the toothpaste foam in my mouth to clean my teeth and gums
I feel the hot, salt tears burning as they fall over my cheeks, down my neck
I know my heart is beating, I know I am breathing
But I don’t feel life
I am a stone, motionless, void and empty
Its been three weeks. Its been a lifetime. It was only yesterday.
He is gone. He is not coming back
I don’t want to breathe
Will there ever be life again?
Charlie sent me this poem, and when I read it, I thanked her. I thanked her because it captures quite eloquently how I am feeling. Today marks the sixth month of Mattie's death, and as the day wore on, I found myself getting more upset and depressed about the time that has lapsed by. I am not finding with time my feelings are changing for the better. In fact, I periodically do ask myself "will there ever be life again?" On any given day I am going through the motions, but internally I do feel like a "stone, motionless, void, and empty." I agree with the poem, "I don't feel life." I can assure you feeling this way and living life this way is not only challenging, but at times makes me question my ability to work through this and my ability to therefore re-engage and find purpose in my life again.
I picked Patches, our cat, up at the vet today. She has been boarded there for two weeks. The vet loves Patches and Patches seems very happy being there. Patches has hyperthyroidism, and at home we are unable to manage her medication effectively. But after two weeks at the vet, they finally stabilized her. They changed her medication, and when I picked her up this morning, I was given her new medicine. However, everyone was upset over the fact that Patches would be leaving to go home. Patches clearly found a good second home while Mattie was hospitalized for over a year. Patches is a VERY vocal cat, as most calico cats are, and though the boarding facility is on the second floor of the building, I could hear her screaming two floors down while I was in the waiting room. She was unhappy to be loaded into her carrier, and basically she screamed at me for the entire car trip home. I can see Patches is happy to be home though, and she is a good companion in many ways. She stays close to Peter and I, and she really relies on us.
I had the opportunity to have lunch with two friends today, Christine and Liza. We chatted about all sorts of things and I shared my cruise experience with them. We all reflected on how our changing society has impacted different aspects of our lives. It was a very interesting conversation, over a very tasty lunch.
We received an e-mail today from The Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation attorney alerting us to some exciting news. Peter wants to share with you the following message: "Vicki and I have good news! We were just notified by the IRS yesterday that we are now an officially sanctioned and approved 501(c)(3) public charity! This is a major milestone in every non-profit's life as it is a formal and official IRS designation and recognition that all charities strive for but many do not qualify for. This letter of determination is the result of the Form 1023 application that we filed in December. This formal letter will make us eligible to receive funding and grants from a number of institutions as it acts as a IRS seal-of-approval that we are legitimate and not some fly by night organization. The letter will also allow us to register with the major charity tracking organizations and services that many private citizens, trusts and foundations use in their gifting decision making processes. This week we will provide this letter to a number of organizations so that we may be formally registered with them."
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages and then a poem which I received from my lifetime friend, Karen's mom. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "As you said, there is no shortage of grief poetry, much of it written by parents. That is so wrong, so sad, that I don't even have words to express it. Transitions are always tough, this one had to be especially difficult coming back to an apartment with Mattie's things but no Mattie presence. I am glad you found the penny yesterday, I believe he was telling you he is here with you and will be with you wherever you might be. It was very kind of you to go and visit with Mary on your first day back; most people would not have run to do such a good deed; I know she appreciated seeing you after your absence. I hope things get easier as you settle back in here in DC; my heart goes out to you and Peter. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
The second message is from Mattie's oncologist and our friend, Kristen. Kristen wrote, "I hope you found time to reflect and relax while on your cruise. I am certain you found yourself thinking how much Mattie would have loved this or that several times a day. And perhaps, because you knew how much Mattie would have enjoyed something...you found yourself enjoying some of those things as well. I think of you often and always on Tuesdays."
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Based on the comments I posted in last night's blog about the status of eldercare in our Country, Karen's mom sent me this insightful poem. I hope you find it as revealing as I did.
CRABBY OLD MAN
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St.. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem. And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? . . .. .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.
A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons . . .. . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . .. . and the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass .. . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man .. . . Look closer . . . see ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet
an older person who you might brush aside
without looking at the young soul within.
We will all, one day, be there, too!
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