Tonight's picture was taken in December of 2002. This was Mattie's first Christmas and he was 8 months old. Right from the beginning red seemed like the perfect color for Mattie. It fit his personality and character. I remember this reindeer onesie quite well, because on the back of the outfit was the rear view of a reindeer, fluffy tail and all. If you have been following my photo comments for a while, then you most likely know who was taking this photo! Mattie was smiling and looking at the photographer, so by all accounts Peter would say I was therefore taking the photo! Peter jokes with me all the time by telling me that Mattie's attention was always on me if we were in the same room. I am not sure I agree with that, but it makes me smile anyway.
Quote of the day (From Peter's Fortune Cookie): Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you.
Tonight's quote is not necessarily a quote. It is actually a fortune, right out of a fortune cookie. This is the second week in a row I am posting a fortune, and ironically each fortune I post happens to be from Peter's cookie. Peter's office had a holiday party tonight, and after the party we met up with each other to have dinner. Peter and I are quite lucky to live in a complex with a Chinese restaurant in our backyard. However, this Chinese restaurant has been here for decades, is owned by the same family, and is a Foggy Bottom tradition. Technically this is a restaurant, but for us, it is like our home away from home. Everyone in there knows us, they knew Mattie, and we know about each other's lives. I joke with Peter each week, that this is our, "Cheers" (you have to know and love the 80's sitcom Cheers to get my point here!). The owner is a Boston Red Sox fan, so clearly you know Peter is in good company.
Friday night dinners tend to be entertaining. Mainly because I am not focused on cooking and cleaning up, and therefore I freely sit and chat. That of course can be a mixed blessing, because you never know what topics of conversation I will bring up. Tonight, I chatted with Peter about how the death of a child can affect a marriage. It would be quite hard for such a tragedy not to impact a marriage, mainly because this unity produced a child who had cancer and died. It is impossible as a parent not to feel some sense of responsibility and blame for this, especially when you hear that pediatric cancer has genetic origins. Also tack on the fact that Mattie looked just like me, so at times I wonder how Peter handles this now that Mattie is gone. Peter and I both would agree that in the first three to six months after Mattie's death we most definitely were not on the same page about this loss. While one of us would be in pieces, the other was fine, and when one of us needed to be socially isolated, the other needed constant involvement. All couples face differences, however, such differences while grieving can be misunderstood, misinterpreted, and sometimes perceived as hurtful. Peter reminded me tonight that one night we were sitting at our dining room table after Mattie died, and we were arguing about these exact differences. I don't recall this but apparently I slammed my fist on the table, and apparently said that we just have to accept that we need different things as we grieve. We are different people and therefore have to grieve in our own way. This is not disrespectful to us as a couple, but natural as individuals. I of course don't even recall this statement, but Peter said it was at that point things began to make sense for both of us. We no longer became upset with or at each other, but began to appreciate the uniqueness of grief and the challenges associated with losing a child. I appreciated Peter talking with me about this tonight, because I think that is the key to surviving the loss of a child as a couple. It is open dialogue, acceptance of differences, and respect for each other. But do you want to know how this dialogue even began? It began because of the fortune Peter read. Apparently I am his "happiness!" I could have smiled and let his comment go, but I did not. It was the perfect way to dialogue about the journey we have been on together for over a year. A journey we will be on for a lifetime.
While driving in the car today I heard an unusual Christmas song by Dolly Parton entitled, Hard Candy Christmas. I honestly never heard of the term, "hard candy Christmas" before, and had my own ideas and interpretations of this term. However, while searching the term on the Internet, it revealed the following explanation: "A hard candy Christmas was when a family was so poor that all they could afford was a penny bag of hard candy to give their kids (such as in the depression era). Yes, this actually used to be a Christmas treat, and still is to some, but that's in addition to other treats. And the kids in that family would love it because that would be the ONLY time of the year the family could splurge on something like candy."
Despite the significance of the term, Hard Candy Christmas as a song just spoke to me. It caught my attention because Christmas is not a happy time of year for many people. Certainly the movies, TV, and the media make it a very happy and nostalgic time of year, but for all the parents out there who have lost their children to cancer or other causes, the loss seems magnified during the holidays. In our American culture, Christmas has been portrayed as the holiday of gift giving, of social gatherings, and especially of children waking up in the morning excited to run to the Christmas tree to see what is under it for them. What happens though when this was all a part of your world at one time, and then thanks to cancer, none of this exists any longer? Christmas still exists, it is still Christ's birthday, but you no longer have a little one living with you, you no longer have gifts to buy for your child, and the excitement that can only come from a child is no longer in your life. What does Christmas look like for you now? Well frankly in a nutshell this is how Christmas has looked for Peter and I for two years now. It is confusing, upsetting, and at times it is hard not to be bitter about our situation in comparison to others around us. When I get this feeling of inner turmoil, I usually know it is best to leave my social situation, because the issue lies within me, and not everyone can possibly understand just how painful this loss is for us.
I have included a link to Dolly Parton's song, and the video of her transformation over the years is entertaining as well. I relate to her Hard Candy Christmas song, except unlike Dolly there is nothing "fine and dandy" about me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGZ1IYRirtQ
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