Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2009. Mattie was riding the famous, Speedy Red! My parents got Mattie Speedy Red, because they knew this was something he had always wanted. Because Mattie became terminal right after treatment, Mattie was never able to have his 'Make A Wish' Foundation wish granted. So at the end of his life, we were scrambling to give him something special, and a moment of happiness. Those moments were too few and precious toward the end. In the beginning, I rode on Speedy Red with Mattie, but after one or two drives around, he got the idea of a gas pedal and brake immediately. He also got the concept of steering, and was an excellent driver. So despite the fact that Mattie had a central line, in which he was hooked up to pain meds, and was wearing an oxygen cannula attached to an oxygen tank, I allowed Mattie the freedom to drive around on his own. It took a great deal of courage to step out of that car, and to give Mattie this space, but I am glad I did it. Driving Speedy Red made him happy, and I try to cling to those memories now. Some parents have the joy of watching and teaching their children to drive. Peter and I have been deprived that developmental milestone as well, but we will always have Speedy Red. Which may be why parting with Speedy Red isn't happening any time soon.
Poem of the day: Day to Day by Charlie Brown
My sorrow is nearly constant,
Day to day to day.
And yet, if I look back
Over the past months
A gently upward slope appears.
So fragile is this path
That I scarcely want to
Acknowledge its existence,
For fear that it
Will crumble beneath my feet.
I know the path back to joy
Is rambling and filled
With ups and downs.
And the only safety rails
Are the prayers and hopes
Of my family and friends.
Day to day I cannot see
Many changes in my grief.
But I have to believe this path
Eventually leads to a brighter sky
Reflecting the light of your memory.
Tonight's poem, Day to Day, reflects quite well how I feel on a daily basis. However, as time moves forward, do I see an "upward slope appear," as the poem so aptly points out? Well the answer may be yes, but I am not sure. In the beginning of my grief journey, I would say I was absolutely numb and quite closed off to most feelings. With time, some of the protective shell that I established to survive has cracked and at other times the shell is completely peeled away. However, for the most part, my true feelings of loss and grief over Mattie are quite private. Sure I write on the blog each day, but I certainly do not write the full picture of my highs and lows on such a public forum. What I will admit however, is that time isn't healing for me. Certainly the pain may not be as raw, but the feelings of sadness I carry with me each day hasn't disappeared. In addition to sadness, there is also guilt. Guilt that I am still here and guilt that I would take my mind and heart off of Mattie for a little bit each day. That may sound healthy to those of you reading the blog, but for a mother to admit that, it doesn't feel good or natural. Because what mother caring for a child can block out her child in any given day? A mom may be engaged in work and other tasks, but somewhere in the back of her mind is the thought of her child. What happens when this child is no longer alive?! Where do those caring thoughts go to? Not being able to think about Mattie each and every day is the first sign to me that my mind knows he is no longer with me. I am no longer performing my mom role, and that begs the bigger question, why? Accepting Mattie's loss means also facing guilt head on, and I find these days I am battling grief and guilt and together they are a powerful combination.
Peter and I left Bethany Beach around noon today. We definitely came home with more than we left with. I am not sure if it was the notion of leaving or coming home, but I wasn't myself on the car trip home. Thankfully the beach is only three hours away, because I couldn't have managed to be trapped in the car for another second longer. When we got home we had many chores to do, but one thing I was happy to see is our garden managed quite well. Peter created a sprinkler system for the garden that went off on a timer twice a day while we were gone. I am so happy he did this, because everything looks so green and happy. I spent some time outside with my flowers today, and I was very grateful that Peter made dinner. The thought of that task wasn't appealing at all to me.
On Friday, I will have the opportunity to see Ann and her cousin, JP, before I head to the airport to pick up my parents, who are flying back from their overseas vacation. I spoke to JP tonight, and I got to hear about his adventures today and what he wants to do tomorrow when I see him. Returning home is met with its own challenges, which in a way have made me feel like retreating. However, I am focused upon knowing that Ann's cousin is looking forward to seeing me and then the fact that my parents will be arriving at the airport and are expecting to see me there. So again, I take it one day at a time.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I hoped you would have better weather and be able to enjoy the beach before you packed up to leave, but it seems as though in spite of the weather, you made it an adventure and went out anyway. It's easy to see that Mattie got his determination from you and Peter and I know he would have made the most of the time and perhaps even found a way to enjoy all the water in the streets. I can see him with one of his ships, taking advantage of the opportunity to be Captain Mattie in a place where normally there is no lake. As you said, all the feelings are mixed in every experience you have. Tears mix with laughter and joy is tinted with sadness at the sights of children playing. I can only hope that as time goes on the burden of grief lifts and lets you enjoy more of the simple joys of life. Although you said you were not sure that G-d was with you on your walks along the beach, I hear his presence in that still, small voice that tells you, "You are needed" and gives you courage to get up and try to face each day. As you head home to DC, I wish you a safe journey and that you might see some positive reminders of Mattie's presence. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
The second message is from one of Mattie's babysitters and our friend, Emily. Emily wrote, "Mattie and I shared so many laughs and special times that replay in my mind constantly. Every time the Lion King on Broadway advertisement plays on TV, I immediately think of him. I will NEVER forget the moment when "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" was playing and Mattie grabbed my hand. I had tears in my eyes watching him hold my hand, and remember tapping Adam so he, too, could see the genuine love this child had to give. The funny part was once Mattie caught me staring at him and not the show he whispered, "Emily! You're not watching!!" I laughed, but I remember crying inside hoping that this would not be the last time I would be able to hold his sweet hand. (Unfortunately, it was...and I replay that night over and over hoping for comfort).I hope you know that his memory is forever in my heart and mind, and my love and support for you and Peter is forever. If you ever visit NYC, please let me know because we would love to see you. I miss you and Peter very much. All my love always."
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