Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2003. Mattie was a year old, and trying to walk independently. As you can see from the picture, it had just rained, and Mattie loved puddles. He was having a ball outside, and he saw Peter trying to take a picture, and Mattie gave Peter a big wave and was trying to say something in excitement.
Poem of the day: Searching by Charlie Brown
I search for you
In the wonders of nature
In each raindrop
That sparkles with
All the colors of the rainbow.
I search for you
In the song of birds
That you loved to watch
Splashing in the fountain
And calling to each other.
I search for you
Whenever I see a butterfly
As it circles round
Before it flies off
Just like you did
I seek the message in
All I see around me
But I still wish to hear your voice
See your smile
Feel your hugs
Nothing can replace that
And time will not fill that hole.
I have to imagine that by me sharing stories of Mattie and our battles with grief and loss that these stories are not only read, but in some cases internalized. My hopes are confirmed daily in messages I receive from Charlie and others in my life. Charlie's poem "Searching" highlights how I look to butterflies and signs from nature to reconnect with Mattie, to remember Mattie. But I see I am not the only one who has been affected by my stories. Carolyn (our friend, and chair of the raffle at this year's Walk) wrote to me today and told me that each time she sees a fluttering butterfly or hears wind chimes she thinks of Mattie too. Mattie has caused many of us to stop and see the beauty around us, things that I admit I used to take for granted because I figured they would always be there. But what experiencing death has taught me, is that waiting for the right moment to do anything, it is not only impractical, but it is ridiculous.
I began my morning by reading an obituary that Peter left out for me. One of his Arthur Andersen colleagues, who was only 41 years of age, died. This man struggled with lung clots and then brain cancer. He leaves behind a wife and four children. Peter is going to the funeral on Saturday. I am not sure what seems so wrong with this picture. The fact that we are reading the obituaries in the newspaper, or the horrible fact that we know people who are featured in them. Forty one year olds are NOT supposed to die. This was a man who also volunteered in the community and was very active in his children's sport teams. After reading the synopsis of this man's life, I felt disillusioned. I feel deeply saddened for his family left behind, and I feel these untimely deaths have left me in a great quandary about life.
I went to a local spa today to get my nails done. What I like about this spa is it has a serenity room, where I normally go and sit and read. It is in a way a quiet haven where I don't hear noise or have to talk. While getting my nails done today, I literally fell asleep. I haven't been sleeping well at night, and therefore during the days I am absolutely exhausted. When I got to the serenity room to my surprise, there was a mom in there with her newborn baby. That was a first for me. I never saw a baby at a spa. On one hand I remember the newborn days where I wanted to get out of the house and perhaps have a minute to myself. So I felt for this mom, really. But on the other hand, my quiet retreat became filled with crying and the sights and sounds of a baby. I made it in the room about 15 minutes, and then gave up. At that point I felt my head spinning and had to remove myself from the situation. Upon leaving I also realized I wasn't physically feeling well.
I did have lunch with Ann, Tanja, Tina, their children, and Mary (Ann's mom). But at lunch I was dwindling, and I felt feverish. So I headed home to rest. Tonight Peter and I are saw Mary Poppin's, the musical at the Kennedy Center. Charlotte's mom, Ellen, gave me her tickets for the show. Ellen knows I love musicals, and when big shows come to DC, they get sold out quickly. So I am grateful to Ellen for this opportunity. So despite how I am feeling, I pulled it together because I did not want to miss the show.
Peter and I just got back from Mary Poppins. It was a three hour musical, but it went by very quickly. All I can say is I needed this musical tonight. Peter and I were both in a funk, and I can say that if Mary Poppins can't breathe life into you, I don't know what could. Disney outdid themselves. This is the first musical in a long time that captured my heart and spirit. Musicals today are filled with sound effects and a lot of noise. Mary Poppins is a return to the way I remember theatre being when I was growing up. There was a traditional story, with a plot, and a MORAL message (in which children are important, and they grow quickly, if you don't spend time with them now, then soon they will be old enough to leave home and there will be only missed opportunities), and most of all there was glorious music, sung by people who knew how to perform. I must admit I grew up with Julie Andrews as my model for Mary Poppins, so I went in with very high standards tonight. But the Welch born actress who played Mary Poppins was simply brilliant. You just had to love her. The supporting cast was extremely talented and I think this is a musical that appeals to all ages. I laughed, cried, cheered, and by the end when the cast got a standing ovation, I too wanted to dance to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! The true test is I left the theatre singing. I rarely sing now. Mattie's death has removed the spark of fun I used to have in my life. But there was something magical about Mary Poppins. The sets were clever. In fact part of the set looked like an old fashioned doll house that you can open up doors to. It is easy to produce Mary Poppins' magic in the movies, but how they captured the beauty of drawers opening and closing on their own, and how a kitchen set magically reset itself was special. However, we actually saw the character of Bert tonight dance upside down on the ceiling. I did not think anyone other than Fred Astaire could accomplish this feat! This production left me energized which isn't easy since I am running a fever and have a wild sore throat. I have attached a link to the Broadway version of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. The hand gestures are priceless! I also loved Disney's slant, in which despite the era of the musical, there were very empowering statements about women, which leads to an equally empowering song, "Anything can happen." I don't rave about musicals often, but if you have the time, it is definitely worth taking your family to see this!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkHV6THFoDs
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "As we've blogged about this before, children are much more open about death than adults. They are more realistic and less guarded and they are more able to acknowledge the missing person in their lives. Children know that loss hurts and it is not made better by not talking about it. Adults seem to think we can all hide behind small talk and that the loss of someone dear will somehow be "forgotten." It is instead (as the poem says) the elephant in the room. And the longer you go without speaking the name or saying what you are feeling, the larger the elephant gets until all the space is taken and the conversation withers away. Just as children do, it is better to speak what you feel and go on to acknowledge the person where they would naturally do so as Abigail did a week ago when she said Mattie would have enjoyed the camp. I do think that we get "messages" from those who love us if we are open to them; thank you for sharing that lovely picture of the butterfly that chose to spend time with you. I am glad to hear that you and Peter had a good evening with Jerry and Nancy and that they were able to help Peter express his feelings and bring a little humor to the evening. Humor is one of the gifts that helps us all get through the worst of times. As I practice today, I will send you my energy to help you continue to find some solace in nature and more subjects for your lovely photos. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
The second message is from my colleague, Martha. Martha captured the feelings I have when others try to rush Peter and I through grieving. I am more forgiving of friends in our lives, however, what may surprise you is that not all health care professionals are trained in grief, and therefore have no understanding of the pains that some of their patients have who walk through their doors. Some days, I have the energy to advocate and educate these folks, and other days, I just let it go. But I agree with Martha, labelling one's reactions to grief is counterproductive. Because if you label "good" or "bad" grief, in a way that implies that grief follows a set process, and that in a way "healthy" grieving looks a particular way. Grieving is a very personal matter, no two people deal with it the same way, nor do they need the same things to survive the process. Therefore, trying to classify who is doing it "well" or who is reacting to it in a more complicated way in my mind is over simplifying the complexities of grief work. Martha wrote, "I really resonate with your being upset when people label your grieving process. Long after my husband died in the car accident, I was experiencing trauma on the anniversary of his death. I learned that the "Grief Specialists" had begun calling this "Complicated Grief." They evidently felt a person was somehow abnormal if they grieved too long! I resented this term and this feeling, especially from the professionals who had set themselves up as the experts. No one can understand the personal limits of another person's sorrow, nor can they put limits nor dimensions to it. You are right to be angry when someone trys to do this to you. Those who try are the ones with the problem -- not you or I."
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