Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2002. Mattie was four months old. This entertainment saucer was sent to me by my college roommate. When it came in the mail, my first reaction was.... are you kidding me, where am I going to fit this? But this saucer became one of the tools of the trade while raising Mattie. Mattie LOVED it, though I must admit the first time we placed Mattie in the seat he was frightened out of his mind. However, after that initial greeting, he took to it like a duck to water. He loved spinning around, moving the parts on the saucer, and trying to stand. Peter just reminded me tonight, when Mattie sat in this saucer, his arms would be up in the air typically over his head and his fingers looked like tentacles capturing every sight and sound and absorbing it inward. It was a precious sight to see and remember.
Poem of the day: Now and Then by Charlie Brown
Right now my heart
Is so full of pain
It's been almost a year
How does one stay sane?
Is there an end,
To the grief one can feel?
Is there a point when,
Fleeting happiness becomes real?
I don't know how
For as yet I can't tell.
I'm still living here
In my own private hell.
My friends and my family
They knock at the door
And try to help me see
How to get up from the floor.
Looking backward hurts
But going forward hurts more
Because I know you will never
Again open that door.
At least in the past
We had our boy,
But in the future
There's no hope of that joy.
That's how it feels,
Though others may say,
You will get through this
And there will come a day,
When you smile without tears
And take comfort in knowing
That although he is gone
You did not stop growing.
And you'll find him again
In that place we go after
There'll be tears, but of joy
Hugs and kisses, and laughter.
When I woke up this morning, Ann had already sent me a text message to start my day. Her question was did I want to meet her and have a pedicure? I am a very well planned out person normally. So much so that I used to plan out my weekend, and spontaneity was never anything I excelled at. There is some comfort to living to a plan, to having order in one's life, and all those things used to bring me comfort. Well of course until cancer hit my life. Cancer showed me that sometimes in life there is NO plan, or not the plan you are hoping for. That living a predictable and stable life in the end doesn't always make one happy or healthy. Cancer has taught me a great deal about death, but also about life. Prior to Mattie getting cancer, such an invitation from Ann would have sent me spinning, mainly because I did not plan such a meeting into my day. However, now the unexpected captures my attention, and chances to spend time with a close friend, does take precedence over other mundane tasks. Tasks which at one time seemed SO important to me.
I had the chance to spend some time in Ann's garden today, and it is simply amazing to me how such tiny plants from the spring time, have transformed into such beautiful and robust plants this summer. Watching Ann's garden unfold has been a special part of this summer for me, and fortunately she allows me a great deal of latitude with what I do with her space. As I know the summer is slowly coming to a close, I find myself becoming saddened by this. This summer has allowed me the time to be outside, to plant, see birds and butterflies, and to connect with something that is bigger than I am, nature. I have found digging, pulling weeds, reshaping things, and watering flowers very therapeutic. But what happens in the fall and the winter, when this garden will lie dormant? This may sound like a silly question, but where does this therapeutic outlet go for me?
My parents are trying to adjust back to East Coast time, but between the jetlag and feeling quite ill, they are lying low today. For a change of scenery for them, we did go out to dinner and then my mom and I went to see Mary Poppins. I wanted my mom to see it, because I loved it so much the first time I saw it. I rarely rave about new musicals, so I know my family took notice when I did. My mom truly isn't feeling well, but she did pull it together to see the show with me, most likely because it was something I really wanted to do. Despite how she was feeling, she too loved Mary Poppins. It is impossible to sit through this musical and not be transformed in some way. If the plot doesn't get you then the singing and dancing will. I loved it just as much the second time around. I truly feel I need a year of musical therapy. Hearing music, seeing dancing, and following a plot helps transform me out of my state of depression and sadness.
To me this musical is very magical, however, what happened during the second act of this play tonight, I just can't explain. While the actors were performing a song entitle, "step in time," a fragrance wafted passed me. I hadn't smelled this fragrance throughout the ENTIRE performance, and it only lasted during this one song. As quickly as it came upon me, it left in the same dramatic fashion. Why am I mentioning this? Because this fragrance was that of MATTIE. It wasn't when Mattie was well, instead it was the smell he had on him at the end of his life. It was a sickly smell, that would come from the scalp of his head, a smell that I would wash off of him each time Debbi sedated Mattie. I never smelled this fragrance on Mattie at any other point in his life, and frankly I have NEVER smelled this fragrance on anyone else EVER before. So when I smelled this sickly smell this evening, I almost fell out of my seat. I continued listening to the show but was subconsciously transported to another time. I consider myself a very logical person, and naturally have tried to come up with some rational explanation for what happened, but I have none. I should have tapped my mom to ask her if she smelled what I did, but I was somewhat paralyzed in my seat from what I was taking in. The song, "step in time," in a fascinating song in and of itself, because the main character, Bert, lands up literally walking and dancing on the walls and ceiling of the stage. It defies gravity, but with the help of a guided wire, this magic is possible. But I find it very interesting how this fragrance was timed to a song that captures one's imagination, mind, and spirit. I am not sure if Mattie was with me tonight, and frankly it doesn't matter what the reality is. My reality is I felt his presence, so needless to say this is a show I won't be forgetting any time soon.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Each of us has our own pain to bear and it does no good to "comparison shop". I find it particularly unhelpful when people say, "it could be worse..." To me that is a wonderful line for comedians but not for living life. Grief seems like fear to me; it is different for each person and we are the only ones who can face it and work through it. We can and should draw strength from those we love and who care for us but it is from within ourselves that we find the desire and motivation to make it through. I know that you have it, although it is difficult to access right now. It may be that you are one of those who not only has to walk a difficult path but build as you go. Remember that it is okay to reach out for help when you need to; whether it is to find a reason to get out of bed or a shoulder to share your grief. I know yesterday was overwhelming for you and yet you pulled it together and did a lot for others. I suspect that is part of your key to staying on your particular path out of overwhelming grief. There will always be sadness but it will not always be the kind that swamps you and doesn't allow you to laugh or play or take joy in the people and things around you. Today as I practice I send you my strength to help you stay on that path until you can see a clear direction to go. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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