Saturday, April 24, 2010

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2009. My mom and I took Mattie out for a walk in the wagon that Linda (Mattie's childlife specialist) gave him. Mattie loved this wagon, most likely because he could take a walk without using a wheelchair. In a way, it made him feel more like a kid, rather than a child with cancer. Honestly when I think about what Mattie had to endure, the fact that he couldn't walk, and that he always felt physically ill, it is therefore a wonder where he found the energy or courage to smile. At the time, I did not give that beautiful smile a second thought. But I try to imagine myself in Mattie's situation, and I frankly wouldn't have had much to smile about. This speaks to the beauty, spirit, and love of Mattie.

Poem of the day: They Say There is a Reason

They say there is a reason,
They say that time will heal,
But neither time nor reason,
Will change the way I feel,
For no-one knows the heartache,
That lies behind our smiles,
No-one knows how many times,
We have broken down and cried,
We want to tell you something,
So there won't be any doubt,
You're so wonderful to think of,
But so hard to be without.

Today was a very hard day for Peter and I. I am good at traveling around in a state of numbness on certain occasions, but there was something about attending Abigail's First Holy Communion celebration that moved me from numbness into a very sad and depressed state. I frankly would prefer numbness any day, versus how I am feeling right now. Peter and I sat next to each other at the church, and I could sense Peter was shutting down. After Mattie's death, I have found that it takes me a while sometimes to focus on what is being said and what is going on in my environment. However, as I was beginning to settle into the mass and absorb everything around me, it became too much. We were surrounded by CHILDREN. Everywhere! To understand how I felt, imagine putting a person deathly afraid of snakes, in a pit filled with snakes crawling all over the place. It would be a shock and horror, but magnified because the snakes would be everywhere you turn, and there would be no escape. Being in the church today, in a way, felt that way for Peter and I. From our perspective we were surrounded by reminders of all the things we do not have in our life, and just like the snake analogy, it left us anxious and upset.

I asked Peter why he thought being in the church was so hard for us. His simple answer was because it highlighted yet another event that Mattie has missed out on in his life, and therefore of which we as parents have been robbed. His explanation made perfect sense to me. Peter and I then went to Ann's house, where Abigail's party was being held. Mary (Ann's mom) was in attendance, and I spent some time with her. In moments when I feel completely misunderstood, I usually stay not far from Mary. Most likely because Mary understands my feelings, most times, without me having to say anything. Mary was telling me that she is having trouble remembering things from day to day, and as I was listening to her, I explained to her that despite her disease she is doing a very good job. But then I joked with her, and said that I forget things too, and I told her I don't have an excuse like she does. At which point, she said to me, that wasn't true! I have the best excuse in the world as to why I can't remember things fully. With that, I paused, and I told her she was absolutely right. But I do think you need to be a mom who has lost a child at times to truly get the magnitude of my pain and feelings.

Abigail's party was beautiful and everyone was having a good time. But in moments like these, Peter and I do find that we need to remove ourselves, and we did today periodically. It feels as if seeing happiness, families intact, babies, and children, just short circuit my wiring. As the afternoon went on, I could feel a massive emotional outburst was ready to happen. So naturally I removed myself, because this event is not about me, it was about Abigail and her day. Nonetheless, I cried on my drive home, I cried as I went grocery shopping, and I continue to crying tonight. In these crying fits, I feel a deep sense of loss, I feel isolated, I feel as if no one understands Peter and I, and mostly I feel disconnected from life. I can only hope for some sort of peace tomorrow, because just when I think I can't reach a lower point in this process, I surprise myself.

I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "First, I have to say that the centerpieces you created were amazing. That's a real gift. I can't even imagine where you would begin to create something like that. How very appropriate for Abigail's special day; what a lovely theme and what a great way to express it. I think finding the pennies was a sign; I have to wonder if Mattie was telling you that he would be there for Abigail's Communion celebration today. What you said about Americans living for the future is true. What we need as always, is a balance; one looks toward the future and plans for it but you have to find the time to actually live in the here and now and appreciate what you have. Somehow all this reminds me of the Tim McGraw song Live Like You Were Dying" http://new.music.yahoo.com/videos/tim-mcgraw/live-like-you-were-dying--2170761 The key is the balance between appreciating what we have and still being able to dream and work for what we want. That's not an easy thing to do. As I practice today and try to find that balance, I will send the energy to you so that you can begin to find some peace in now and some energy to plan for the future. I hold you gently in my thoughts."