Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2009, at The March for a Mattie Miracle. This picture was taken at the end of the event, and by that point Mattie was exhausted. However, Mattie's trusted friend, Zachary, was right next to him. Zachary's mom captured this photo, and what I love about it, is it shows two friends sitting side by side, and they are clearly comfortable with each other. As you can see, Mattie was holding his cup filled with tent caterpillars, and Zachary was showing him something on his mom's phone. Mattie met Zachary during his first year of preschool at Resurrection Children's Center. They were instantaneously attached to each other from the very first day of school. In fact, they were inseparable throughout the two years they were in preschool. They understood each other, were loyal to one another, and what I learned was their friendship was so meaningful that even cancer couldn't sever it. What you need to understand is that when Mattie was well, he and Zachary had a very active relationship. They would run around, and do many physical activities together. When Zachary first came to visit Mattie in the hospital, I was worried about how the boys would relate to each other, since Mattie was wheelchair bound. I wasn't sure how they would play together, since Mattie clearly couldn't run around like he used to. What Zachary showed me during that visit, was the important thing for him was connecting and playing with Mattie in whatever capacity Mattie could participate. Zachary sat with Mattie and built legos, they greeted all visitors and nurses who entered Mattie's room, and they simply chatted with each other. I learned a great deal from these seven year olds that day. Over the course of Mattie's preschool years, I spent a great deal of time with Zachary, and if there was a child I knew quite well, other than my own son, it would have been Zachary. Zachary showed me what true friendship was about that day in the hospital, and there are times even today when I think about Zachary and his powerful connection with Mattie, and I cry. This special kind of bond doesn't happen often in life, and I can't help but wonder how Zachary is doing without his good friend Mattie.
Poem of the day: The Math of Grief by Charlie Brown
Here is another Tuesday
I add another week
To the date
Since you’ve been gone
One full moon a month
So many days
All moving away
From your presence.
And the subtraction?
That’s easy
All the things you took
When you left.
Butterfly kisses
Big bear hugs
Little boy enthusiasms
All the remaining “firsts”
That should have happened
And now,
Never will
In a way, my life has become like a lesson in basic mathematics. Each Tuesday, I practice the art of addition, adding up the weeks since Mattie's death, with this week being week 33. Whereas each day I get a reality lesson in subtraction, as I think of the countless things that have been subtracted from my life since Mattie's death. When you look at my days and weeks in this very simplified manner it illustrates that my balance sheet is in the red.
I spent a good portion of the morning doing Walk related items. Later in the day, I met Ann for lunch. Emotionally for me, Tuesdays are challenging days, and after lunch when I got back into the car, I literally got myself totally lost. This is one of my major downfalls, I am directionally challenged. Though I was on a street that I have been on before, I some how got myself pointed in the wrong direction, and one bad turn, led to many many more bad turns. Until I finally realized I had to stop because I was very lost. I have found myself lost on many occasions during the last couple of weeks, and I do not even need to be driving. Two week ago, I was taking the Metro, and got off at a stop I have been to many, many times. However, this particular time, I exited the Metro station in a different direction. As I took the escalator to get the street level, I realized I had no idea where I was. In those moments, I can't even think through this problem. This is one of the many side effects of grief. Instead of panicking, which I can easily do when I get lost, I called Peter. Poor Peter is used to my calls for help! He answered the phone that day at work and I said "I got off the train and I have NO idea where I am." He started laughing, because through the phone lines he had no idea where I was either. But he talked me through my confusion. That is exactly what it is, confusion and anxiety, and this happens easily now because I think in many moments my emotions are frayed and the end product isn't pretty.
I headed to Georgetown University Hospital later in the afternoon because I had a meeting with Denise, Mattie's social worker, and Katherine, the HEM/ONC nurse educator at the Hospital. Katherine is coordinating a Hospital table at the Walk, in which nurses and other support staff can interact with adults and kids and provide information, answer questions, as well as have some hands on activities. Also at the meeting were two of Mattie's HEM/ONC nurses, Jenny and Nicole. It is always wonderful to see these fine women, and I am honored that they continue to think about and support us. This was a community that was very hard to say good-bye to in September of 2009.
After the meeting, which went very well, I had the opportunity to chat with Denise. Though Denise was Mattie's social worker, she continues to take a personal interest in how Peter and I are doing. Denise and I discussed the grief that we are experiencing. I completely agree with her, this is traumatic grief, but it isn't just one trauma we have to recover from. It is instead multiple traumas, for example, the trauma of Mattie being diagnosed with cancer, the trauma for living at the hospital, the trauma of going through chemotherapy and surgeries, the trauma of seeing Mattie unable to walk and take care of himself, and of course the trauma of his death. The grueling hours leading up to his death are enough to wreak havoc in our lives, but when you add up all these other traumas, it is a wonder how we are able to function at all. Denise was concerned that perhaps I set some sort of unrealistic expectation for myself, perhaps that I would be feeling better by now, or that we should be further along in this process than we are. I told her that neither one of us had such faulty notions, but that I understand that others in my life may have them for me. She then spoke to me about the myths and facts of grief, especially traumatic grief. In essence she let me know that advice from other people, and meeting their timelines, is not what is important here. The grief process is just that, it is a process and it doesn't look the same for each person. I found our dialogue with each other very helpful, and if confirms my feelings that returning for support from a place that gave it for over 15 months makes sense.
I would like to end tonight's posting with four messages. The first message if from Mattie's oncologist and our friend. Kristen wrote, "I can hardly believe another Tuesday is here and to quickly follow is Mother's Day. For you Vicki I can only imagine your thoughts as you near Sunday. But I want to remind you...that you are a mother, in every sense of the word. Through your work you continue to provide important lessons for hundreds of your faithful blog followers. You teach us all patience and perseverance. You continue to teach us hope and love. You nurture us and gently remind us of what is important in life. I will always think of you as Mattie's Mom, Vicki. Thinking of you both, Mattie's Mom and Dad on this Tuesday and everyday."
The second message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Monday was certainly both a rewarding and challenging day. I know you made a huge impact on your students, whether you were a graduate instructor or the student took a class with you as an undergraduate. I think it was good for you to hear how you influenced your former students, how much inspiration they drew and continue to get from you and I hope you find a way to go back to teaching again, since you have so much to share and you are a great role model. Going into Hallmark and seeing all the Mother's Day cards and other things had to be very painful for you; perhaps some day you will again have a child who will send or make you a card for Mother's day. In the meantime, you remain a mother although Mattie is here only in spirit. As we go forward into May and the countdown to the march continues, I hope all your plans work out as you wish. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
The third message is from my friend and colleague. Nancy wrote, "Yesterday's blog was so filled with affirming statements, even the tearful ones. Affirming in that you are missing Mattie, in a different way, looking at the Mother's Day card section. I can only imagine what it must be like to not hear and see him this Mother's Day. The reality is you will be together, just in a different venue. I imagine the chimes will ring or some force of nature will let you know that Mattie sends you his love and wants you to know that you will always be his Mom. I don't know whether it's time for a full moon this weekend, yet, Mattie Moon is always in my thoughts. I was so glad that you went to Honey's luncheon so that you could experience the appreciation of your former students, too. You have been an inspiration to so many and you know that I consider you one of my mentors as well. I don't know if you know of Muriel James, a transactional analyst. Well, many years ago I had the privilege of being with Muriel at an International Transactional Analysis Conference, in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Her work focused on reassessing our Parental Ego State. As you remember we have two parts to this state; the nurturing parent and the critical parent. Muriel was updating her theory to expand on her initial concepts. In it, she stated our parent is combined of all other kinds of experiences and teacher, clergy, any influential person in our life belongs on either side of this paradigm. You , Vicki, embody a beautiful addition to anyone's Nurturing Parent Ego State. You give and give to all you encounter and Peter is your gentle partner. I am so glad that you have each other to lean on during this ordeal. The Foundation and the upcoming walk are a perfect place for both of you to continue to express your love and tribute to Mattie. In another blog, you said that you don't understand the reason that Mattie was taken. I don't know if that question will ever be answered satisfactorily for either of you, yet, each of our loved ones gives us a Gift with their Passage. Mattie's gift to the universe is his courage and curious nature which helped many, especially himself, endure this disease until the end. His other Gift of Passage is his parents ability to transfer their grief into a positive energy to help other families during their fight with osteosarcoma. What a beautiful way to give back to the universe! Vicki, I think of all of you often and read the blog many times during the week. I find that I am reemersed in writing to you, especially on Tuesday. I send you love, a big hug, and friendship as you navigate this day. My best to Peter and know that you will be in my thoughts this Mother's Day."
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