Saturday, October 16, 2010

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Tonight's picture was taken in October of 2008. Mattie was in the PICU, and this was clearly before his first limb salvaging surgery. You can see an ocean scene before Mattie. He had been working on this project for days in the Childlife Playroom of the Hospital. First Mattie painted the backdrop for the ocean scene, and then each day he created an ocean creature out of model magic and added it to the set. Mattie even recruited Brandon, his big buddy, to design and to create ocean creatures. Naturally with Mattie NO scene was complete without cars. So in his ocean scene, he built a bridge out of popsicle sticks and model magic, and added cars to the bridge. Mattie played with this ocean scene for days, and in fact, other children also joined in and I recall many of Mattie's nurses and the childlife staff simply fascinated and amazed by Mattie's creativity! What it came down to, was art projects were therapeutic for Mattie, they helped him at times reflect on how he was feeling, and other times, they were a marvelous distraction that gave him the opportunity to escape from his daily reality. Some days Mattie did not want to talk, he did not even want to hear noise! On those days, thankfully, we always had art as our outlet.

Quote of the day: Most people do not know how brave they really are. ~ R. E. Chambers

Though we are in Los Angeles, clear across the country from Washington, DC, we were quite aware that Mattie's school hosted its annual fall festival today. This festival is bittersweet for us. It is packed with positive memories and unfortunately very painful ones. Mattie attended his school's fall festival in October of 2007. I will never forget that day. Within one month's time (since Mattie just entered this school community in September of 2007), Mattie already made some very solid friendships. At the Festival, he ran around with this friends, got his face painted, and went on many different moon bounces. He was a child that seemed happy, healthy, and with a bright future ahead of him. In the summer of 2008, the president of the Association for Parents and Teachers at the school asked me if I would head up the coordination of the 2008 Fall Festival. I found that a daunting task to accept based on the other professional things I was juggling, but I agreed to this challenge, since I respected the president and naturally am a big proponent of supporting Mattie's school. Then of course, Mattie was diagnosed with cancer in July of 2008, and I unfortunately realized Mattie wasn't going to be able to attend school and I could no longer plan a fall festival. Thankfully for good friends, Christine (Campbell's mom) took my place and coordinated a wonderful festival two years in a row. So when I reflect on the Fall Festival, what jumps out in my mind is Mattie's cancer. To compound this loss, Ann's dad died two days after last year's fall festival. This is another death that I won't be forgetting any time soon, so unfortunately a day which should be connected with fun and happiness is instead clouded with feelings of sadness, intense loss, and an ache for what should never have happened (Mattie dying from cancer).

We spent a good portion of the day at my parent's house. We were all still weary from our very active week away, and not to mention the 9 hour car ride home yesterday. So staying still today seemed to be the right thing to do. It was also a cool and rainy day in Los Angeles, and this only seemed to accentuate my tired feeling. Peter helped my parents today with some of the issues they were having on their computers. While working with them, my mom showed Peter and I some wonderful photos she had taken of Mattie over the years. They were truly very special to see and yet painful at the same time. Seeing pictures almost floods my mind and heart with the loss of Mattie. Not that I don't feel this loss everyday, I do, but this visual cue almost forces me back to the harsh reality of what I am missing. I am sharing four pictures with you tonight that capture the many wonderful sides of Mattie.

This picture is PRICELESS and I frankly do not even remember my mom taking it! We were in the parking lot of Mattie's favorite restaurant. I recall we just finished lunch and my mom wanted to take a picture of the three of us. Mattie did NOT care for this idea, and refused to be in the picture. Little did he know that my mom caught him on camera. You can see Mattie peeking from behind a tree watching the process. He did not want to be a part of the picture, but he also did not want to disengage from what was happening altogether. Mattie always approached things on HIS own terms, not someone else's!

This is a picture of Mattie at his favorite restaurant. I love this picture because it captures Mattie's bright eyes! Looking into Mattie's eyes, you can see his life, his need for intellectual challenge, and his energy! I learned from an early age with Mattie, that I could NEVER travel anywhere without a bag full of things to keep him busy. I always had a bag of tricks filled with toy cars, Legos, puzzles, and coloring books (his LEAST favorite thing to do!). I can assure you that I needed every item to entertain Mattie at a restaurant. When I would be out with Mattie, I always was in awe of moms who did not have to bring half the house with them to keep their children stimulated. Over time, however, I began to accept that this was just who Mattie was, and to embrace his energy and need for stimulation. But I did not accept this easily at first because this meant that I too had to be always on and engaged. It was through our years together that I became Mattie's closest play companion, and like any good companion, when he is gone, you deeply miss this connection.

We took my mom for a walk on Roosevelt Island during one of her visits. Mattie and Peter were always about adventure and exploring things off the pathways. My mom and I stayed on the boardwalk, while Peter and Mattie started walking into the woods and checking out things around them. As they were walking back to rejoin us on the pathway, my mom captured these two buddies together.

This is another picture I do not remember AT ALL! However, when I saw it today, I could feel my heart ache. My mom was able to capture through this photo a habit of Mattie's. The habit was to hug me around the neck and rub cheeks. I miss those sweet cheeks and the softness of his skin. Also take note of the tinker toy structure behind me. Mattie was a builder and a creator and our living room floor always had a project underway on it, which is most likely why this is my least favorite part of our home now.




We drove Peter to the airport tonight, and as we were driving, Peter squeezed my hand and pointed out the window. I looked outside the back window and I saw Travel Town in Griffith Park. Travel Town is an incredible place, filled with train cars from various eras. The beauty of this park is that children can run around, jump on and off the trains, touch the trains, and appreciate the beauty of this form of transportation. Mattie LOVED this park, and each time he visited LA, he wanted to go back. Naturally when I saw the trains, I visually could feel Mattie's presence there, and then unfortunately had to face, yet again, the fact that he is no longer part of my life.   

Looking at pictures today, and seeing Travel Town definitely evoked various emotions. However, whether I have these physical cues or not, Mattie's loss is deeply ingrained in my body. I know that trauma research indicates how such an event can change the chemistry and composition of the brain, and I most definitely feel this is true for grief as well. Mattie's death has affected every part of me, I can't scientifically back up what I am saying, but this loss has been integrated within each of my cells. I know how I physically feel from surviving cancer and Mattie's death, and perhaps seeing pictures and reliving special places Mattie has been to, only heightens the biological responses I now have to Mattie's death.