Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2006. I was the parent helper that day in Mattie's preschool class, and even back then I never traveled without my camera. As you can see in this picture Mattie was wearing his favorite color. He loved the play loft in Margaret's classroom, and up on the stairs with Mattie was his very close buddy, Zachary. Those two were absolutely inseparable in preschool, and they would spend 3 hours in school together each day, and then after school, they would spend several more hours with each other. Needless to say, I think Mattie and Zachary learned a lot about each other and how to cultivate a friendship from one another. These were skills I saw Mattie taking into kindergarten, and somehow I do think if Mattie were still alive today, their friendship would have continued. They had a special bond with each other and could pick up right where they left off. For so many of us, it may take a lifetime to find a friend like that. For Mattie he found it on the first day of preschool.
Quote of the day: You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left. Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be full of the love you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back. Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on. ~ David Harkins
Tonight's quote caught my attention because it has a griever believe that either you can pine for the loss of your loved one, or you can look at the future and cherish the memories. That it is one or the other, but why can't both happen simultaneously? I find this quote very judgmental, because in all reality, when you have lost a child I think both aspects occur. You feel the loss, you feel empty and also live in your yesterdays. But that doesn't mean these feelings aren't tempered with cherishing the memories and actively finding ways to keep those memories alive.
I met up with Ann this morning and we went for a walk. We haven't been able to do this together for quite some time. For those of you who have tuned into the blog more recently, Ann was our Team Mattie Coordinator. Over the course of Mattie's battle, Ann and I landed up spending a lot of time together and certainly after Mattie's death, I would say that I spent a rather intense year with Ann. Certainly dealing with the trauma of Mattie's death, but also trying to help her as her dad was dying. These life and death issues bonded us as friends, and therefore when life gets busy and too complicated, we at times can miss our time together. After walking in the beautiful sunshine for an hour, I came back to Ann's house and wasn't feeling well.
Despite how I felt, I was scheduled to participate on a conference call today with the Sibling Research Advisory Board (SRAB), of which Supersibs is a community partner. I met Melanie Goldish, the Founder of Supersibs, at the Curesearch Advocacy training and day on the hill events. Melanie and I instantly were drawn to each other, since we were speaking the same psychosocial language and advocating for the psychological and emotional support of families living with childhood cancer. Any case, Melanie invited me to meet by phone the amazing group of psychological researchers around the country who comprise the SRAB. It was a wonderful phone call, in which I got to hear about the cutting edge psychological research taking place with siblings and family members of children with cancer. I look forward to continued dialogues with this group and ways for Mattie Miracle to get involved.
After the call, I headed straight to the doctor, since I had my recurrent bladder pain. I honestly did not know how I would have the stamina to drive myself and get the prescription I needed. But through Mattie's battle I endured a lot, and worked through pain. I literally walked into the doctor's office without an appointment. They took one look at me, keeling over in pain, and swooped me right into an exam room. I told the nurse practitioner today who saw me, mind you she has seen me several times for this issue along with my doctor, that she was my angel of mercy. She told me I made her day since she was having a bad day in which she wasn't able to help certain patients. I naturally understood that as well, since I know that modern medicine couldn't save Mattie. Needless to say, I hope to feel better in the next day or so, but right now, I am still feeling awful.
Each of us had the opportunity tonight to tell our cancer story and to discuss the work we are currently doing. Mattie's story is a touching one and though our Foundation was created in November of 2009, we are making great strides already. I had many people come up and talk to me, and I also enjoyed interacting with Denise, Mattie's social worker. In many ways, Denise and Dr. Shad tried to normalize my feelings. I sometimes develop intense anger for parents whose children survived their cancer battle. That may sound nasty or inhumane, but I think it is one of my ways of processing Mattie's loss. Unlike other moms who can cry about the process, I usually don't. My lack of tears shouldn't be confused with not feeling or not loving my son. My tears are internal, usually in the form of depression and anger, and in many cases with physical symptoms.
I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from Mattie's oncologist and our friend, Kristen, who remembers us and Mattie each and every Tuesday. Kristen wrote, "I thought of you early this morning when I woke up and saw the moon shining through the window. It was Tuesday..."
The second message is from my friend and colleague, Nancy. Nancy wrote, "I'm up early and on the computer. I thought the poem from last night's blog was perfect for the introduction to your reflections. Nature has a calming way for many especially when dealing with grief and loss. The idea that one we've lost might be with us afterwards intrigued me as I, too, needed a connection following my father and then my mother's deaths. I think circumstances and the trauma of the death determine the strength of the need. We discuss often the many complexities of birth, raising a child, and then the unbelievable issue of the early death of a child. You have been masterful in illustrating how important it is to have something to return to and nature is that lovely vehicle. I, too, saw some beautiful trees blooming as I was driving to my friend's house yesterday. The return of Spring and the blooming of the trees/flowers shed a ray of hope, just like the theme of this year's walk, Faces of Hope. I'm glad that you stuck with this theme and know that it will be powerful. Lauren is a beautiful example of a child understanding more than we give them credit for when she was able to show her appreciation of the gift of survival by her creation of her 'Bows.' I will miss not meeting her at the walk and await your description of her visit. Mattie has provided this same gift (although you have to miss his smile, hugs, and growth), with all the stories that you have shared and the volumes of pictures that you display on the blog. Peter and you have had many sightings. whether you are together or as you are right now, many miles apart, Mattie is with you always."
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