Saturday, July 24, 2010Poem of the day: Evermore by Charlie Brown
Sometimes I don't know what I feel
In fact, your death seems hardly real
I still expect you to run through that door
And tell me you love me evermore.
I hear echoes of your play
They're background music everyday
They are a little out of tune
Like a tape that stopped much too soon.
I feel you in so many places
In nature, and in your friends' faces
But as for the one I most want to see
That one is denied to me.
Son, I will miss you ever more
Until we meet again at heaven's door.
Peter and I woke up to the excitement of reading the front page of the Metro Section of the Washington Post. As I felt in my heart of hearts, I knew Rick Rojas (a Washington Post Reporter) would do a wonderful job capturing our story. He devoted a great amount of time getting to know us through extensive interviews, spent many hours with us on Capitol Hill, as we lobbied for funding for pediatric cancer, and perhaps it is a mother's intuition, but I felt Rick tried hard to understand our loss and what has compelled us to start the Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation. We posted the link to this article at the top of the blog, and what I loved about the on line version, was there were additional pictures featuring Mattie's artwork from Legos to paintings.
As the morning was unfolding, we received many wonderful e-mails from people who know us as well as people being introduced to our story for the first time. We heard from a lovely individual all the way from Pakistan! What also caught my attention, were two women who wrote to us today who are graduates of Union College (where Peter and I went for our undergraduate degrees). Both of these women found their husbands at Union College, which provided an instant commonality among us. One woman mentioned that she is now an oncologist in St. Louis and is reaching out to connect more with our Foundation. I have been deeply, deeply touched by the outpouring of responses we are receiving. Somehow hearing that our story has touched the hearts of even complete strangers means something to me. Peter and I live with the aftermath of cancer everyday, but to hear how our story brought tears to your eyes today, and makes you reflect on the travesty of a beautiful child dying, makes me feel understood. That is SO important when grieving. This article and hearing from so many thoughtful and sensitive people today was a beautiful birthday gift. It doesn't replace Mattie in any way, but it does confirm to me that Mattie lives on.
As I was waiting for Ann and her family to arrive, I was sitting outside on Ellen's deck with Peter. Her neighbor, Jim, was outside as well, and watering his plants. We started chatting with each other and Jim said to me, "I know you." In fact he said, "I saw you in the Washington Post this morning." We all laughed at that and he said that the photographer did a great job, because we look just like our picture. This may sound like a funny dialogue, but Jim was actually very supportive and I really appreciated his openness and willingness to acknowledge us and our story. We even heard from Dr. Aziza Shad (the director of the Pediatric Lombardi Center) tonight and she said that everyone acknowledged her at the party she attended tonight, and in fact attendees began giving her contributions toward the Foundation. For all our readers today, who generously made a contribution, we sincerely thank you.
As Ann has watched me struggle to put thoughts tonight toward the blog, she sat right next to me. In a way, it reminded me of what my mom would do sometimes when I was in high school, and struggling to put my thoughts together. So together, here is what we came up with: Today on the eve of my birthday I spent a day trying to relax at the beach. Keyword, trying! I was kicked out of the kitchen as they prepared dinner. Before having dinner, we all headed to the beach. Because of record breaking temperatures today, it was impossible to go to the beach during the earlier afternoon.We did spend a few hours in the rough surf, catching crabs (Abigail called the little crab she found, "Phil"), playing catch and getting knocked around by the crazy and wild surf.
When we got back from the beach, I was sent directly to the hammock to read while dinner and my surprise were prepared for me. While Ann was fixing dinner, Abbie and Michael were serving me all sorts of appetizers and drinks. Abbie even set a lovely table, complete with butterfly folded napkins. We all ate outside in the heat. Everyone braved the heat for me! For dessert, we had a delicious cake decorated with fake bugs. As I was blowing out the candles, Abigail had me look at the top of the cake. At the top, sat three marshmellow people. One representing, Peter, one representing me, and the third representing Mattie. This third little person had a gummy worm halo over his head, signifying Mattie in heaven.
Tonight, before Abbie and Michael went to bed, they both came out on the deck and sat next to me. They watched me pull out my computer and were interested in seeing what I was going to do next. I pulled up Mattie's blog. Naturally this is not something a child reads on a regular basis, but they both know of the blog. I mentioned that each night I put a poem on the blog, and this caught their attention. They read Charilie's poem as well as a few emails I received today and genuinely seemed to care about what people were saying to me - and seemed to understand the importance of remembering Mattie in the blog.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I am so glad you are away this weekend. These days that so directly linked back to the beginning of the nightmare of Mattie's cancer that it must be so difficult to deal with. I am glad you are in a place that is peaceful and you are surrounded by people who care about you and understand your need to be alone at times. That's so important. I am glad you had in balance a day with more positive than negative in it yesterday; a walk along the beach, a Mattie moon, a good dinner and more. I know that Ann is joining you on Saturday and I hope that visit goes well. We finished up our three day workshop today and many things struck chords for me but one I want to share is this statement that a griever made. You don't "move on" you "carry on" as best you can. Our closing ceremony was a Peruvian ceremony of caring, remembrance and healing; we all got to pray over our herbs that would be transformed by fire into smoke carried to the spirit above. I had you, Peter and Mattie in my thoughts, that Mattie would know how much you love and miss him and that you would know he was well and whole. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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