Tonight's picture was taken in February of 2003. Mattie was 10 months old! As you can see Mattie was playing in one of his favorite things, "tot wheels." Mattie loved his walker because it gave him freedom and put him in control. Though he was unable to crawl and did not walk at 10 months, when he was in "tot wheels" he became a speed demon. He literally would be running around the first floor of our home, and even making turns. Corners were NO problem for him. I felt the need to post this picture because I had a flash back of Mattie in the kitchen with me tonight, as I was chatting with Peter while preparing dinner. Sometimes the reality of Mattie's loss hits me, and it is usually at unexpected times. Like cooking dinner! It is hard to come to terms with the fact that Mattie isn't around and he will not be popping into the kitchen ever. It is almost like my mind is playing a cruel trick on me, except it isn't a trick, this is my reality.
Quote of the day: My grief lies all within, and these external manners of laments are merely shadows to the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortured soul. ~ William Shakespeare
I freely admit to reading each of Shakespeare's plays and I deeply admire his writings. I am most likely drawn to his works because of his understanding of emotions and the human psyche, and his eloquent use of the English language. However, after I read tonight's quote, I felt the need to pause and reflect on exactly what he was saying about grief.
As I absorb what Shakespeare was telling us, I realize my lens or viewpoint is clouded in grief. Perhaps that is the best lens upon which to focus on this quote. Because to me, he was pointing out that grief is very much internalized. No one can grieve for you, no two people grieve the same way, and what captured my attention was that regardless of the external "laments" you hear from someone grieving, that this is only the tip of the iceberg. It is the tell tale sign of the greater turmoil that lies under the surface. It is under the surface and can't be seen or felt by others but it is definitely overwhelming and all encompassing to the owner of the grief. A "tortured soul." I would say that parents who have lost a child to cancer are indeed tortured souls, and we are asked to do the impossible each and every day, and that is........ to live with these memories!
I have wanted Peter to see the movie, King's Speech, since I saw it in Los Angeles during the holidays. We finally got to the theatres today, and I must say I enjoyed the movie just as much the second time around. Like in LA, today's theatre was packed. Every seat was occupied! During certain scenes in the movie, people were crying, and there was also a lot of laughter. Peter and I rarely go to the movies anymore, so he knew if I was suggesting he see this movie, it had to be special and memorable. I suppose I am intrigued by the true story told to us through cinematic art, in addition, I am touched by the incredible story of friendship that developed between King George the VI and his speech coach. The movie illustrates the value and the power a significant friendship can have in one's life. We certainly see enough of the sinister and corrupt sides of our world, so when something life affirming, like this movie, is showcased, I most likely cling to it. The movie ends with Beethoven's beautiful and powerful 7th symphony, movement 2, which has been swirling around in my head all day.
This evening, Peter and I were in the kitchen together, and I came across a photo posted to the refrigerator that I hadn't seen in a while. The picture was taken in July of 2008, at a conference I was hosting in San Diego, CA. This conference happened only days before Mattie was diagnosed. As I looked at the picture, I reflected on the fact that this is what I looked like before all hell broke loose in our lives. Peter then started talking about how special that week was when I went to the conference. He took the time off of work to care for Mattie. Mattie was enrolled in several summer camps that summer, and Peter said after a week of trying to follow the schedule I gave him, he came to the conclusion that he did not know how I did it. That was funny to hear! But the conversation went from funny to sad very quickly for me. Because I could picture Mattie and Peter together that week at home, I could picture them building me a fountain for my birthday (a fountain which I still have and run each summer on our deck) as a surprise, and I then remembered the day I took Mattie to the pediatrician to find out WHY his arm was bothering him. I remembered all these thoughts and feelings in a matter of minutes, and it was overwhelming. Overwhelming equals tears for me, and what started out as an innocent picture on the refrigerator, that had absolutely NOTHING to do with Mattie, made me very sad. Somehow when I think of Mattie in the kitchen, I always have the mental image of the picture I displayed tonight. He will always be my 10 month old running around and bumping into me in the kitchen in "tot wheels." So I began tonight's blog with "tot wheels" and I now conclude tonight's blog posting with "tot wheels."
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