Tonight's picture was taken in December of 2006, at Flamingo Gardens in Davie, FL. We spent New Year's with my parents in Florida that year. It was the end of our trip, and on the day pictured in this photo we were scheduled to return to DC. However, before we went to the airport, we squeezed in one more activity into the day. A visit to Flamingo Gardens. At the time this really seemed like an over programmed schedule, but looking back, all I can say is I am happy we did it. Mattie loved Flamingo Gardens, as do I, and sometimes you really do have to live your day like this is the last day you are going to have. Nothing is guaranteed and I look back at this trip with no regrets.
Poem of the day: TIME DOES NOT BRING RELIEF by Edna St Vincent Millay
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
The poem, Time does not bring relief, is quite accurate. In fact, with time the feelings associated with loss and grief, especially of a child, become more intense and complicated. Therefore, my one main message to others is NEVER to use the cliché.... time heals all wounds. Time may change how the wounds feel, but the wounds will ALWAYS be there. To be honest though the memory of Mattie will always be with me, and the fact that he developed an aggressive and horrific form of cancer and then died, have been etched in my mind and heart. Therefore, unless I become impaired, my memory, these wounds, and our experience with cancer will always be a part of me. In a way the cliché time heals all wounds, is equivalent to asking someone to forget that they went to school, college, or graduate school. It just isn't possible. You build upon your education in life. With an education, you look at facts, figures, and problems differently. You have the skills to think them through and to process how best to develop solutions. Similarly, cancer has caused me to evaluate the world, people, and problems very differently. This is not something that will go away with time, instead it is a part of my life, just like my education, that I will need to somehow accept in order to continue living.
I had a rough night with 102 degree fevers. I finally did fall asleep, but I woke up feeling wiped out this morning. So I spent another day at home and in bed. I am unable to read because my head simply hurts and my eyes are blurry. Writing this blog is also challenging! So I spent another day listening to the television. I exchanged e-mails back and forth with my lifetime friend, Karen. When Karen and I were in 6th grade together, every friday night, we would watch Julia Child's cooking show. Karen was at her home and I was at mine, so we would be having lengthy chats on the phone about Julia. Julia Child was considered a great chef, but we weren't watching her for that skill, we watched her because she actually was funny. The way she talked to herself while cooking, and how she would drop pots and pans all around her, were simply entertaining to a 12 year old! The reason this triggered this memory today was Karen e-mailed me to let me know that Julia's episodes are airing in the afternoons on the Cooking Channel. That gave me a chuckle. Though I grew up in the age of the TV show, Little House on the Prairie, I must confess I never watched it. While watching the Hallmark channel today, I tuned into this show, which as many of you know is about the life and adventures of the Ingalls family in the 19th century American West. The moral messages in the show caught my attention, and therefore, for the past two days I have made up on lost time, and watched many episodes. In a way this show brought me back in time. A time when there was quality television, when there were wholesome shows for children to watch, in which parents were respected, listened to, and valued. Where children were more innocent and the lessons of hard work, community, and family were appreciated. I find it ironic that today's episode was about pregnancy. The mom in the family became pregnant with their fifth child. I learned that their fourth child, their only boy, died after being a year old. So the mother was desperately hoping that the fifth child she was carrying was a boy. No one around her seemed to understand her deep level of grief for her son, but I got it immediately, and I also understood why it was hard for her to be around her friend who just gave birth to a baby boy. I was captured by the content in the show, because though it was produced in the 1970s, I related to it very deeply in 2010. In my emails to Karen today, we talked about and forth about Little House on the Prairie. Karen was quite familiar with it and told me about the various stages the show went through over its ten years on the air.
Throughout the day, Ann text messaged me and called me periodically. I got the feeling she was concerned since it is unusual for a adult to get such high fevers. She told me that even Mary, her mom, is worried about me. Ann is taking her mom out to lunch this week, and is waiting for me to get better, because Mary has requested my presence at this lunch. In part, I think Ann tells me these things to give me a reason to get better and motivated to get out of bed. When Mary's helpers know that we are taking her out to lunch, several of them want to come along. Why? My gut feeling is they get a kick out of watching us all interact with each other. Ann and I alone can be a riot, then add Mary to the equation, and we are better than reality TV. So hopefully I will be better by tomorrow or friday to go out.
While I was in bed today a very rare occurrence happened. Patches, our calico cat, jumped on the bed and sat and slept right on my lap. Patches is not an affectionate cat, and certainly not loving with me. I am the utility player in this relationship. Nonetheless, over the years, when I have been sick, and Peter isn't home, she remains close to me. I will never forget the time I was in graduate school (pre-Mattie), and Peter was at work. I developed an 104 degree fever and was basically delirious. Patches stayed with me on the bed until Peter came home. Not that she could do anything for me, but she made me feel as if I was not alone. I never forgot that moment, and from that day forward I nicknamed her, "nurse Patch." So nurse Patch was on duty today and spent several hours with me. When Mattie came into my life, Patches stopped tending to me in this way, because Mattie filled that role. But Patches knows that Mattie is missing from our lives now, and I found it fascinating how she reverted back to her old behavior today. Mattie would have been proud of her.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I am sorry you were ill yesterday and I hope that you are feeling better today. I know that you were overwhelmed several times this weekend and grief brings with it an assault on the immune system and often results in illness. I am glad that you have Dr Bob to turn to for assistance so that you are not stuck in some waiting room hanging about until you can be seen. As I practice today I will send you healing energy so that you feel better soon. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
The second message is from my friend and colleague, Nancy. Nancy wrote, "We got home today from our trip. After taking care of laundry, paying bills, doing some other chores, and wrapping up some loose ends, some stay unwrapped for another day. I wanted to check the blog. We returned too late last night to write, so here I am today. I know I missed most of the week, yet, the last two days bring much to comment on. I am glad, too, that Junko got you to go out and do something just for yourself. Your massage must have really stirred energy in your body as you awoke ill yesterday. Seems a paradox, to spend this wonderful time with Junko and doing something just for you, and then become ill. Yet, it had to happen to send this wake up call that you need to stay healthy even though you feel that Mattie wasn't able to get better. Grief is so strange. It does come on us when we least expect it. We believe that we have a shield to keep it away and it is stronger. Rest well. Thanks to Dr. Bob for being available as always! I hope today finds you feeling stronger. Charlie's poem was beautiful and so telling of what you experience every Tuesday. I know that you missed your dose of Mattie while laying in bed. These are the times when it is hardest to stay away from the pain."
WHY ME? by Nancy Heller Moskowitz
I often asked, Why me?
Why do I sit here without my child,
Not being able to hold him, to make it all better.
Why me? Could there be another way?
In my head, I know I did all I could,
My heart says that's still not enough.
Why me? I ask and no one has an answer
An answer that will satisfy this feeling.
I wait and wait, hoping for some relief.
It comes in drips, like a leaky faucet.
I am comforted that many understand,
I wait for an answer,
Not knowing when or whether it will come,
No one knows why it was me!
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