Tonight's picture was taken in front of the US Capitol Building in Washington, DC during December of 2006. Mattie went through many red coats over the course of his short lifetime. I recall the very first coat I bought him was blue. It looked nice on him, but from that point on he steered me toward bright colored jackets and coats. I remember posing for this picture, and it is hard to accept that another Christmas and New Year's day have past and Mattie is no longer with us. Time doesn't heal all wounds, in fact, time just makes the longing more profound.
Quote of the day: Glow brightly, little light, and send my message: "I will love you, never forget you, always be with you." ~ Teri Gingham
It was another rainy and cold day in Los Angeles today. Well rainy is not a good description, pouring with intense fog would be much better. I am NOT a rain person in general, but to me nothing is more depressing than being in Los Angeles in the rain. You can see trees, flowers, and greenery all around you, and yet, you feel trapped inside. We went out to breakfast with friends of my parents today. I hadn't seen this particular family since Mattie developed cancer.
We made it through breakfast and then said our good-byes and I observed that no one made mention of Mattie throughout the entire breakfast. No one said they were sorry for our loss or what we are living with. I am very well aware of the fact that talking about pediatric cancer is not easy, and it is certainly much more complex to address especially when the person affected by it is someone who you know. So I actually try not to judge people who do not express their condolences and sympathy with me, however, I would be lying if I said that I did not take notice, or if I said it did not bother me. It actually bothers me a lot. It at times makes my angry, sad, and frustrated all at the same time, because it can be perceived by me that Mattie's death did not matter. That his suffering did not matter and that our grief is inconsequential. I think sometimes that people are afraid or hesitant to mention Mattie to me because they think I will become upset and sad. But here is the newsflash, those of us who lost a child are ALREADY sad, mad, and depressed. We live with these feelings AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY. NOT just when the topic comes up! Nothing you could possibly say to us will surprise us, because chances are we have already thought about it.
At breakfast today, my parent's friends wanted to know if I had plans to return to live in Los Angeles permanently. It is a simple question and a natural one at that. However, what they did not know is that this question can not possibly be answered without understanding my history with Los Angeles. I moved to Los Angeles from New York when I was in tenth grade. My father's job relocated us here, and naturally as an adult, I can now understand the complexities of supporting a family and doing the financially responsible thing. However, remember at the time I was only 15 years old, and financial matters did not mean much to me, but what did mean a lot to me was my friends and way of life in New York. So as a teenager this move was earth shattering. Living in Los Angeles was challenging for me on many levels, and I constantly heard that I sounded like a New Yorker, looked like a New Yorker (whatever that actually looks like!), and as if the name calling wasn't bad enough, I was not allowed in the drama club at school or any play production on campus. I am not making this up, the head of the drama department told me that I couldn't possible be allowed to participate because of how my voice sounded. A rather humbling pronouncement to hear at age 15. In many ways, Los Angeles made me a stronger person because at a time when a teenager desperately wants to fit in, I never did. You can either crawl into a hole with this revelation, or rise above it. I feel I rose above it and out of it. Moving back to New York to go to college was important for my personal and emotional development, so when asked today whether I would move back here, my adamant response is NO! Sure I am an adult now, I have matured and experienced all sorts of life events, but the thought of moving back to LA sends me right back to when I was age 15, and all the insecurities and feelings associated with high school. Nonetheless, the reality of the matter is that I am on one coast and my parents are on the other. For a person, such as myself who hates to fly, this is cumbersome and complex reality. It is funny how a simple question can land up sending me down a road I would never have expected today.
Despite being clear across the Country, Peter and I keep track of each other throughout the day. I am well aware of how hard it is to be alone in our home, on a given day, much less during a holiday. So in many ways, my absence has been hard on Peter, because when we are alone, the depths of Mattie's loss become more pronounced and much more real. In many ways, I can't believe that Christmas and New Year's have past, and yet I feel the same way. I am not sure if I was expecting something miraculous to happen, which is odd to even say, because I have learned first hand that not all miracles are granted. Not just my miracle request, but the miracle request of all parents who have lost children to cancer and other life threatening diseases. Monday is my last day in LA, and I return to Washington, DC on Tuesday afternoon. Re-entry home is also fraught with challenges, and like my return back home in October from my LA visit, I imagine I will have several rough days ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment