Monday, November 14, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

Tonight's picture was taken in November of 2005, during Mattie's first semester of preschool. Mattie was in Margaret's class that year, and though Margaret and I did not know each other well at that point, she seemed to understand that I was a picture person. So at the end of that year, she gave me hundreds of photos of Mattie's class that she had taken over the year. This is one of Margaret's photos, and I am so glad I have all of them now. To me this photo captures Mattie in his element. Mattie was painting with Zachary, his closest buddy. However, Mattie was always curious and the photo leaves it open to the viewer to figure out what Mattie was staring at and what caught his attention while painting. Mattie and Zachary formed an instant bond during the first week of preschool, and just like any great pair, you never found one without the other. They had a special bond and friendship, and I recall one of Mattie's preschool teachers once telling me that Mattie struck her as a kid that could make friends with a lot of different people, but only chooses to become close to one or two kids. I would say that was a fair assessment of Mattie.

Quote of the day: You have not lived a perfect day, even though you have earned your money, unless you have done something for someone who will never be able to repay you. ~ Ruth Smeltzer

Yesterday's remembrance service put me in a funk and I most likely would have continued feeling that way today if I wasn't planning on going out to lunch. But it wasn't just going out to lunch, it was a lunch to celebrate Peter's birthday. Ann and Alison, our Team Mattie leaders, wanted to take Peter out and I felt compelled to support that because despite not wanting to celebrate his birthday, Peter deserves the opportunity to feel cared about. At lunch we talked about Foundation goals and activities and as lunch was coming to an end, I just felt like I was on emotional overload. When that happens, it is easy to see, because I begin crying and am unable to really think clearly. In so many ways, grieving in 2009, right after Mattie's death, was easier for me, because I was so numb and felt less. Now as time has continued, the level of support I get is much less, mainly because it "looks" like I am doing so well, and function and accomplish things. However, in all reality the grief is much different from 2009, for me, I am much more in tune with the depths of the loss than I was two years ago. So the opportunity to be able to talk and cry about this loss are very needed.

After lunch, I delved into a whole new world. I visited the bulk mail center of Arlington, VA. Why? Because Peter and I are trying to apply and qualify for non-profit postage status. What a process this is! I met with one of the postal workers today who I absolutely LOVED. She was very knowledgeable and answered all my questions, especially when I had her repeat herself several times because I did not get what on earth she was talking about at first. The application process itself is daunting, but Peter filled that out, and we jumped through the first hoop. We are now onto the next hoop. But non-profit postage is NO easy task to contend with. As a non-profit (assuming we get approved by the post office), mailing an item becomes more complex because I will not be able to mail Foundation items just anywhere. Instead, all items must go through this bulk mail center, and when I do this, I must presort the mail for the post office. So all envelopes must be sorted by zip code and then delivered in post office approved sacks to the bulk mail center. I tell you the hurdles one has to jump through could make your head spin, especially when I know that I will be the one primarily doing the stuffing, addressing, and sorting of envelopes. Seeing the whole picture was overwhelming for me, so I am taking it one step at a time and remaining focused on the fact that in the end this will save the Foundation money.

This evening, Peter and I headed back to Georgetown University Hospital. One of the business student groups, from the class that adopted us as their community service project, brainstormed an event for inpatient families. They were able to get Chipotle to donate food to host a dinner in the parent lounge of the pediatric unit at the Hospital. It was a wonderful idea since most parents are unable to leave the unit while caring for their sick child. Many parents came to the event tonight, and fortunately I am familiar with the nature of the floor and caring for a sick child. Peter and I know, parents can't really spend much time in the lounge to socialize with us and sit and eat. They are there to grab food and go back to their child's room. Peter, myself, and our board member and friend, Tamra greeted many families and so many of them were grateful for the food and for thinking about them. So in line with tonight's quote I would say we all had a perfect day. We provided dinner and connected with parents who will "never be able to repay" us. According to Smeltzer's quote this level of selflessness is what helps to constitute a perfect day. I am not sure about that, but I am sure that we made a small impact tonight on several families.

I thoroughly enjoyed interacting with the Georgetown student group who planned this dinner. They are clearly bright and energetic. While I was roaming around the units and connecting with nurses (I saw Tricia and Miki!!!) and staff, Peter sat and chatted with the students in the parent lounge. For Peter this was a really good thing! I could sense his heightened level of energy from this interaction and to some extent it brought back the dynamic he had with Mattie. After all, when Peter was raising Mattie, Mattie looked to Peter for advice, guidance, and direction. In many ways, these young minds were doing the same thing with Peter. Not as a father, but as an accomplished business professional, who graduated from their Alma mater. In some ways, as Peter was interacting with these young adults, he was imagining what Mattie would have been like if he was lucky enough to live into his twenties. Though I did not experience that dynamic this evening, I understood the energy Peter got from this interaction, because this is the life and energy I always got from my students. That is the beauty of teaching, and in many ways it is addictive, because you are shaping and stimulating a mind, and in the process, students become connected to you and value your opinion. It is human nature to crave that dynamic, but I think it is even more NEEDED, after you have lost your role as a parent.

Linda (Mattie's childlife specialist) was with us tonight and she snapped a picture of us with four of the Georgetown Students. The other six had to leave for class, but I have to tell you, I was very impressed with these individuals and several of them are brainstorming other ideas for us, even though their semester and assignments are coming to an end. Notice that behind us is a Georgetown Pediatrics welcome sign. This is the sign that Mattie put his footprint on. You may see the red footprint at the top right of the picture. Mattie left his mark on Georgetown, figuratively and literally.

I do need to comment though once again about the Boston connection! People instantly relate to Peter because of this geographic commonality. One of the students tonight we learned was from Boston, one of Mattie's fantastic PICU nurses is from Boston, and our new childlife specialist who we are helping to fund is from Boston. Don't you know they all chatted about the Red Sox and the Patriots!!! I continue to be amazed by the power of Boston to unite people!

In the midst of all of this today, I received an amazing email from a parent at Mattie's school. Anne's daughter, Elizabeth, and Mattie were in the same kindergarten classroom. In fact, Elizabeth and Mattie sat at the same work group table in the classroom. As Mattie's kindergarten year progressed, I noticed that he became connected to Elizabeth and they became buddies. Anne wanted me to know that Elizabeth still thinks about Mattie. I think Elizabeth's kind and loving gesture speaks volumes about the level of feelings children have for one another and how on some level they do process death and try to understand it. Elizabeth's balloon story made me pause today and made me also see that in his friend's eyes he hasn't been forgotten. Anne wrote, "Last Wednesday was the school's pancake supper. We went. The kids got balloons and brought them home. In the car, Elizabeth announced that she wanted to let her balloon go. I agreed. She then said she wanted to write a note on it first. She took her red balloon (yes it was red) and with a Sharpie marker wrote: "Mattie, I miss you. Love Elizabeth." She let the balloon go and we watched it until we could not see it anymore. I apologize for not taking a picture, but I was trying to hide my tears and just did not think about it. She asked me if I thought Mattie got her balloon. I told her that I don't think he could actually hold the balloon, but he sees it and knows she is thinking of him and missing him."

I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend Charlie. Charlie read the blog last night and picked up immediately that I was very upset that I forgot to bring a picture of Mattie to the remembrance service on Sunday. She had some insights on this that were very meaningful and got me to think and reflect on them. Charlie wrote, "I just finished yesterday's blog posting and although I haven't written back to the blog in a while I feel it is time to do so. I see something symbolic in the "forgetting" of the picture. Although you are a "picture person" you know that there is so much more to a person than can be expressed in a picture. Somehow it seems to me that Mattie's spirit is now even more ensconced in your heart in a way that pictures can support but not replace. I think this was a message from Mattie to you, that whether or not you hold something of his where you can see it, you always hold something of his love and spirit within you. I also think it was helpful to know that you are not the only one keeping mementos of Mattie; that his picture and a creation of his reside in the hospital are also important to remember. As always, I hold you gently in my thoughts."