Tonight's picture was taken in November of 2003. This was one of Mattie's very first puzzles. Mattie absolutely loved puzzles, most likely because he understood how things worked and fit together. I recall this particular puzzle SO well and most likely if I checked under Mattie's bed (where he stored all his puzzles) I am sure I would still find it there. Legos and puzzles were Mattie's favorite things to play with, and ironically both of these things kept us busy while living in the hospital.
I received this poem, How to Help, today from my friend, Charlie. As soon as I read it, my immediate reaction was.... thank you, you get it!
How to Help -- by Beverly Walker
Please be gentle with this new person
That I was forced to become.
I need understanding and patience,
So please administer some,
I often feel myself floundering
In my daily activities now,
And some of the things that I used to do
Are harder to do somehow.
There are certain songs I can’t bear to hear
And places I cannot dwell,
Just folding laundry makes me cry;
(Shopping for groceries, as well).
If the smell of a grilled cheese sandwich
Has me suddenly weeping tears;
Please understand that he loved those for lunch
And I made them for him for years.
And don’t be afraid to mention his name.
I need that more than you know.
You are not the reason I’m hurting so much-
The loss of my son made that so.
Just offer your shoulder if I need to cry
And listen if I need to talk
This road that I’m on is SO difficult-
The hardest I ever will walk.
Maybe someday I’ll show you his pictures
And not fall apart at the seams.
Just tell me you know that I’m hurting so-
I can’t tell you how much that means.
I know that the pain will get softer
So be patient with me till it does;
I never will be the same person again,
For, I’m not the ME that I Was.
Mattie died 77 weeks ago today and yet if feels like yesterday. The poem How to Help seems quite appropriate for a Tuesday. As the poem so aptly states, I am a new person. New isn't always better however. The problem with grief, which our quick paced society doesn't always embrace or understand, is that it can't be turned on and then simply turned off. In fact, there are various aspects of my day that will make the loss of Mattie much more real, more raw, and at times leave me wondering.
For example, I was at Ann's house today, and because the sun was out and it was a decent weather day, her children played outside for a bit after school. They wanted to play basketball with their mom and she went out there and played with them. Watching them all connecting with each other was wonderful to see and at the same time difficult to see. Difficult because it seems like someone was missing in the mix, Mattie. I watched Ann's daughter hug her, and again I realized I will never be receiving another Mattie hug. So it is the simple observations that at times can be the most painful.
Prior to Ann's children coming home, I had the opportunity to spend time in Ann's garden. I am trying to pull out all the things that died from the winter, to make room for the tulips, daffodils, and crocuses I planted in October. I can already see these bulbs sprouting up and can't wait to see what these flowers will actually look like.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at home reading about Matisse and selecting photos of artwork that would be appropriate for kindergartners. Tomorrow, I have two meetings. The first is at Georgetown University Hospital to meet up with Anita, one of Mattie's nurses. Anita is going to work with us this year to coordinate a Hospital table at this year's Foundation Walk. We loved having Mattie's nurses at the Walk last year, and we welcome them back again this year. They are an important part of our family. Later in the afternoon, I am meeting Donna, one of the kindergarten teachers at Mattie's school. Donna and I have been emailing back and forth tonight about Matisse and Picasso and it turns out that I just learned that Donna and I both share a great love for the French Impressionists!
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from Mattie's oncologist and our friend, Kristen. As you know, Kristen writes to us each Tuesday. Kristen wrote, "As for today, I think of you fondly as I do on this Tuesday and every day and look forward to us being able to get together sometime soon...."
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