Tonight's picture was from June of 2009. Mattie was in the hospital recovering from his sternotomy, to remove the 9 tumors in his lungs. To me this picture is priceless. Mattie was VERY up that night, working on a creative project. Mattie's nurses had his number. That particular night he was kidding around with them and telling them how loveable he was. So they asked him if they could kiss him. He agreed to this. So you can see Sarah Marshall (on the left, Mattie's angel of Mercy, who was also with us the night before and into the morning of Mattie's death) and Ellen (one of our favorite all time night HEM/ONC nurses!) making Mattie feel special. The cancer battle is technically over, but the visions and feelings left behind from this fight are VERY real, as well as the extraordinary nurses we had the privilege of getting to know in the process.
Quote of the day: I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God's dealings, of why it happened, of why my loved one had died, of hope beyond the grave. He talked constantly. He said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he'd go away. He finally did. Another came and sat beside me. He didn't talk. He didn't ask me leading questions. He just sat beside me for an hour and more, listening when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go. ~ Joe Bayly
As many of my readers know, yesterday was a down day for me. I feel some weeks that I live on an emotional roller coaster, and fortunately today the ride was going up rather than further down. What explains this turn? Most likely the emotional support I received today in person, through mail, and email.
I received a lovely book of quotations in the mail today from my friend and colleague Denise. This book means a great deal to me, because as you can see I have migrated back to starting each blog entry with a quotation rather than poetry. In 2008, I began the blog with quotations, and then later adopted poetry to express intense grief in the year following Mattie's death. However, maybe to some extent it is symbolic that I journey back to quotations now. The book Denise sent me is entitled, "Forever Remembered." Inside the book's cover it reads: Chances are you received this book from someone whose heart is filled with love and is reaching out to yours. We love you. We share your pain. Gently, gradually, these heartfelt words from friends and family help us realize that life may end, but love is endless." Tonight's quote came from this book, and why I selected it was because it is very meaningful and very poignant. When you are helping someone who is grieving, there are no words that can really be said to make the situation better. There are NO techniques. Instead, the reason why grief work is so hard is it requires patience, a listening ear, and an open heart. As this quote expresses, great comfort can be felt when sitting with someone who isn't asking you questions or espousing to have the answers to your loss. So in essence we as human beings are naturally programmed to help each other through grief. We have the necessary tools need (ears and a heart) however, my hunch is the reason why we shy away from helping those who are grieving is out of fear we will say or do something wrong, and because we have been socially programmed not to talk about death and dying. What a commentary about our world. I can certainly say having helped two people die in 2009, you are not going to experience more real dialogues or emotions then under such circumstances. I have learned a great deal about living through watching the process of dying.
I met my friend, Christine for lunch today. I met Christine in 2007 at the St. Stephen's and St. Agnes School. Her son Campbell, and Mattie were very close friends in Kindergarten. Kindred spirits in a way. They understood each other, were bright, sensitive, and had a creative imagination. Over the course of Mattie's kindergarten year, while the boys played after school, Christine and I got to know each other quite well. When Mattie developed cancer and then died, this of course changed the frequency of which Christine and I see each other. However, cancer and death did not change how we feel about each other, which I realize I am fortunate to report. In fact, Christine is the person who suggested a tree gathering to acknowledge Mattie's first anniversary, and I am so glad she did, because in retrospect this was the right thing for us to do for ourselves, the community, and Mattie.
Christine and I sat down and chatted for hours. She said several things today that made me reflect on Mattie, how special he was, and what a force he was. Christine understood Mattie right from the moment she met him. In July of 2009, Christine had Mattie come to her house for literally 8 hours to play with her children. This enabled Peter and I to have a break from our hospital like life at home, and to celebrate our wedding anniversary. That day, Peter and I chose to plant our gardens on our deck, and though that may not sound romantic, to us being outside in the fresh air, without hearing noise was a beautiful gift. While we were planting, Christine recalled today what Mattie was doing at her house. He was very active and played for hours. Though Mattie was in pain and did not like to be carried around, he did ask Christine several times to carry him up and down the stairs at her house so he could continue playing. Christine acknowledged today how hard that must have been for Mattie to ask for help, and yet he trusted her enough to carry him correctly. Christine also gave the kids lunch that day, and today she reflected on how Mattie really wanted to join the kids to eat, but when surrounded by food, he literally couldn't eat anything. Now of course we know why, because he his cancer spread to his stomach. At that time, though, we thought his lack of appetite was the after effects of being on chemo. Nonetheless, Christine did not push Mattie to eat, but she said she could tell Mattie felt badly about not eating. He wanted to do what the other kids were doing, and he also wanted to show Christine that he appreciated her efforts. In the end though he did not eat and Christine helped normalize that for Mattie. As Christine was reliving her day with Mattie, I began to cry. I could picture the day as if I were there. Christine shared more stories, and told me how Mattie's loss is still on the minds and hearts of her family members. She said she gets upset thinking that none of us will ever see the wonderful man Mattie was destined to become. This is so true, as I see Mattie's friends age, I always wonder what would Mattie have been like now? For Peter and I, Mattie is locked at the age of 7, and there he will remain in my heart. After a day like yesterday, I needed a day like today to connect with Christine. To hear from a friend that I am not the only one grieving, that I am not alone in my feelings, was very helpful. Christine also gave me a Pandora charm to add to the bracelet Margaret got me. The charm is in the shape of a cupcake, which brought an immediate smile to my face. As Christine knows, I am trying to create a Pandora bracelet of charms that capture Mattie's memory and spirit. The cupcake is simply perfect and is sitting very happily next to my sun charm!
As the day continued on, my lifetime friend, Karen was emailing me. In one of her emails she said, "you turn people into better people." She was trying to tell me about the impact I am making on others through the blog and through my friendships. Mind you she is a teacher, and works during the day, but periodically on breaks checks in on me. As she was walking through the hallway of her school, she just happened to type this one liner to me. I told her I wasn't sure when I received a nicer compliment, and after the day I had yesterday, these kind words were taken to heart!
I then received an email today from a young woman I never met before. She lives in England right now and is studying to become a commercial airline pilot! Laura is the niece of Peter's boss. I had no idea she was a daily blog reader, but after I read her message I was deeply touched by her comments and sentiments and asked her if she would allow me to post them. So when some of you ask how does Vicki get up each day, and how is she surviving day to day? Well the answer lies in numerous acts of kindness that are given to me through our community! Laura wrote, "I realise that we have never met, I've only met Peter once or twice through my Uncle Grant. You should know that pretty much every night I read your blog, there's something that you say that sticks with me through the following day. A sign of not only a good writer, but also a good teacher. After reading yesterday's blog (I read a day behind because of the time difference), I wanted to let you know that I have not forgotten that you are in pain. I do not expect time to heal you and I find it hard to believe that others do. I actually doubt that they do expect that of you; I think that they're just very wrapped up in what's going on with them at the moment and so forget to be considerate of your hurt. Especially when you seem to me to be a pretty fantastic woman! I admire you every day that I read you have been helping someone, setting up a charity (!), hanging out with your friends' children, not to mention writing a very eloquent and thoughtful blog. Really Vicki, I do! I can only imagine that people either momentarily forget that you have a heavy heart or do not want to make you feel pain in what appears to be a moment of happiness. I started reading the blog regularly last summer when I was staying with my Aunt, Uncle and little cousins. Mattie was obviously talked about by the four of them (the boys wear Mattie bands) and so I started checking in on the blog too. Especially after meeting Peter. I'm not sure how I would describe your blog, for me it brings great perspective to my daily 'dramas'. I also feel that you are writing a blog for people to read and remember Mattie- I want him to be remembered too, so I read it and talk about it with my family and close friends. I imagine that it's also therapeutic for you. I have thought to write many times, but often do not hit 'send' as a) I tend to ramble when I write and b) we have never met and I wasn't lucky enough to meet Mattie. Tonight I felt compelled to write to let you know that for sure, your son and loss have not been forgotten and that I, for one, do not expect anything of you-let alone for time to 'heal' you. I do however hope that time will help you find some extra happiness in other areas of your life, to try and balance out the pain a little."
Since Mattie's birth, capturing moments on camera were important to me. I learned never to travel without a camera and always had a camera in my purse. This continues to be the case today, and I can only reflect on the fact that if it weren't for my camera, I would have lost incredible memories of Mattie throughout time. I naturally never knew he was going to die, but right now, without pictures, my world of being a mother would be totally erased.
2 comments:
Vicki, you are such an inspiration for everyone who follows your daily blog! My hope for you and Peter is that with time, the wonderful memories that you have of Mattie will bring you peace and healing, and the ability to move forward. You will never forget, and there is no time limit on grieving, so don't listen to those are trying to rush you through the process; they just don 't understand!
Hello -
After hearing about Mattie's unfolding story through a friend, I began reading your posts regularly. I can't even begin to put into words the emotions that I felt and yet, there was a distance that I am unable to explain, quite possibly because I hadn't known your family personally. A few months after Mattie's death, I had a very vivid dream and wanted to tell you about it. I started several times, but was unable to send it. Then a few weeks ago, my brother passed away rather suddenly. He had many health issues and had received a kidney transplant about a year prior to his death. While I am still dealing with his death, I have the "advantage" of being busy with my own family and also trying to be a comfort to my parents. It is my belief that a parent's grief is by far the deepest. At times, it it so hard to concentrate that I can hardly function. Time and time again, my thoughts have turned to your family and I've been reading your blog again. I know that there are no words that I can say that would help your grief in any way. I very much wish that I could. Sometimes it helps when people talk to me, but very many times, I'd rather they were just there. You do need to hear that you help many of us readers in ways that cannot be measured. Not just in our grief, but in celebrating Mattie's life with you and carrying that over to our lives as well. I feel the courage to tell you about my dream today and let you decide if it means something to you.
In the dream, the was a blankness around us, a completely grey setting. Mattie was sitting on a grey chair and I was sitting on another. Vicki, you were behind the chairs. Mattie reached out to hug me and said something I didn't understand. Then he traded places with you. You hugged me and clearly said, "it'll be ok", "everything will be ok". I didn't know what you meant. At the same time, the area where Mattie was became full color. There was sunshine and water - waves coming into a shoreline. Mattie was playing in the water, picking up rocks and shells. His laugh (and I've never heard him, but have seen his wonderful smile) touched me. It brought this incredible joyful feeling into my heart. I believe that he was telling me that he was ok and that I was supposed to pass that along to you.
At first, I wanted to write you and tell you that it was a message from Mattie. It sounded a bit crazy then. But now, going through the sadness of the loss of my brother, I do believe that it was a message not only for you, but for me as well.
As your blog has helped me with my life and hugged me, so has Mattie spoke to you through me. He (and you and Peter as well) have been inspirational for all of us that have "known" you. Thank you and God Bless.
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