Thursday, March 18, 2010Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2006. We took Mattie to Sesame Place in Pennsylvania for Memorial Day weekend. Mattie was very excited, and simply loved Elmo, the red Sesame Street character. You can see Mattie was holding two elmo balloons in the picture. We bought him one, and someone else in the park just walked up to him and gave him another one. Mattie was glowing! Mattie had a great time at the park, and he got to see his first memorial day parade, which was well done and very patriotic. The parade included active military personnel and this gave us an opportunity to talk with Mattie about the dedicated work of our service men and women who fight each day to protect our freedom.
Poem of the day: Questions by Charlie Brown
How do I go on?
How can I not?
Who am I now?
Am I a mother?
Or is, that now “was?”
I am searching
For the me I need
To become
As I try to find my way
Through the labyrinth
Of grief
Finding some meaning
Some reason for being
Beyond just existing
Without you.
Charlie's poem tonight effectively captures the feelings I expressed in last night's blog. Mattie's death leaves Peter and I with many questions. Questions about life in general, questions about our lives, our purpose, and our roles. To learn to actually live again, and not live to just exist, is a challenging proposition. Seeing your child die of cancer, leaves us with a feeling of intense guilt and sadness, and in a way, we have to learn to give ourselves permission to continue living.
I met up with Ann today, and tried to finish packing up Mary's (Ann's mom) room at her previous assisted living facility. We have made great progress and even landed up donating a good portion of things that are no longer useful to Mary's care. Over lunch, Ann and I chatted about many things, and I realized today, or maybe verbalized it, that she shares the burdens that Peter and I face each day. She hears them, doesn't judge them, and freely accepts this is where we are at in any given day. Ann doesn't shy away from the painful feelings and things I tell her about, and instead only remains steadfast in her support. I am deeply grateful for her presence in our lives, for caring as she does, and for having faith that our lives will get better when we can't fathom that for ourselves right now.
This afternoon, when Abigail came home from school, she showed me her new wristbands (in the shape of animals) that she acquired. She told me all about them, and how girls like to trade wristband animals with each other. She then told me how much she enjoyed artstravaganza at her school today. I remember this special event when Mattie was in kindergarten. Basically local artists come to the school and share their skills with the kids and inspire them to also create. Abigail told me about a local author who came to her class and read a story that she wrote. The author then encouraged the children to develop a story while she was visiting. Abigail showed me the illustrated story she created. However, when I asked her to tell me about the story she wrote, she agreed to this on the condition that we go out together by the tree. The tree has become our space in a way. A space where she can freely move, think, and express herself. It is actually quite a remarkable feeling to witness and experience. Abigail's story was highly creative, magical, and meaningful. She told me about the first chapter she wrote, but she says she wants to continue the story, which I encouraged her to do. I told her I look forward to hearing about chapter 2 by the tree once she composes it. I feel as if I am living a "Tuesdays with Morrie" kind of experience with Abigail. Except Abigail is 8 years old, and not an older adult, in a nursing home, reflecting back about life. Nonetheless, there is something very moving about these moments together by the tree, which reminds me of this powerful book.
Tomorrow, I head back to the doctor's office for more testing since I haven't been feeling well this week. In the evening, Peter and I will be attending Resurrection Children's Center's (RCC) annual auction. There are several families we know who are also going, including Ann. I have very strong feelings about RCC, because it was in this school Mattie found himself, and made lasting friendships. However, visiting a place where Mattie once was is always a difficult experience for me. I have tried to prepare myself and work through these feelings ahead of time before I attend Friday's event.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Your reflections on life here in DC (I’ve seen it in NY, LA, Chicago as well) are very true. We get so caught up in making a living that we lose track of the fact that making a living is not a substitute for LIVING our lives. It should be what allows us to do the things we love with the people we care for. Thank you for sharing the stories from Abigail and Katharina; I have always felt children understand more than adults give them credit for and that sharing our feelings and encouraging them to share theirs is critical for healthy emotional development. “Protecting” our children from feelings, from events, results in children who cannot deal with the events that life throws at us all. Clearly Ann and Bob have done a wonderful job of raising their children to be both thoughtful and open about their feelings and many of us could take them as role models. Today’s practice was very challenging as things came at us in unexpected ways; eventually I found my balance and I sent the energy of my success to you to help you as you go through your daily challenges. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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