Monday, September 10, 2012Tonight's picture was taken in December of 2008. By this point in Mattie's treatment he had completed all of his limb salvaging surgeries. Naturally the date confirms to me that this was correct, but even if the picture wasn't dated I would know by what Mattie was wearing. After Mattie's second limb salvaging operation, I bought him adaptive clothing. Literally his pants had Velcro seams, so there were no buttons or zippers, and he did not need to step into his pants (which was virtually impossible to do given the host of disabilities he was contending with). Pictured with Mattie is Tricia. Tricia, as my faithful readers know, is an incredible HEM/ONC nurse and one of Johnson and Johnson's Finalists for Outstanding Nurse of the Year. Yes Tricia was Mattie's nurse, but she also looked out for Peter and I in the Hospital, and quickly became a member of our family. Tricia got and understood Mattie and she knew how important his play and building was. If he was in the midst of doing something, she worked around him. This picture captures what I am trying to describe. Notice Tricia's heavy blue gloves.... they are gloves one must wear when administering chemotherapy. At least the highly toxic chemotherapy Mattie was given. Certainly it would have been easier if Mattie was sitting on the bed, but instead, Tricia came down to Mattie's level, and did not skip a beat. The love went both ways, and Tricia and I both distinctly remember one day in the PICU, as Mattie was coming back from the playroom, he called out Tricia's name in the hallway. When Tricia came over to him, Mattie announced... "I Love You!" Frankly neither one of us was expecting this sentiment, but I could tell, it deeply touched Tricia's heart. As we reflect on the passing of Mattie, it would be impossible not to reflect and remember the beauty of Mattie's Georgetown family, of which Tricia is top on our list.
Quote of the day: Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. ~ Albert Einstein
As is typical, the days that follow a major milestone are always problematic for us. Milestone dates in a way seem to re-open wounds, wounds which have never fully healed to begin with. Sometimes when feeling so down and depressed, it becomes very easy to just want to stay in bed or shut off the world. A world which I already perceive as cruel, unfair, and at times unbearable. With the anniversary of September 11th being tomorrow, if you doubt my sentiments, all you have to do is stop and reflect on one of our Nation's greatest tragedies. This tragedy magnifies on a grand scale exactly what I am saying about life.
Sometimes when feeling this way, I have to let go of logic and reasoning. Not unlike what Einstein expressed, and instead allow my imagination to take over. To become re-grounded in the world and to see aspects of its beauty (and thereby use my imagination), I go to Roosevelt Island. Today, Peter and I walked the Island and below I will share photos of our time there. The ironic part about today's walk is that at various points we just stopped walking and stood still for minutes on end. When we stopped moving, it was as if we became one with the nature around us. I observed SO many birds, in fact at one point I felt as if I was in a scene from Hitchcock's movie The Birds. We had birds watching and observing US from every angle, rather than the other way around. It was a real lesson today..... when we stopped moving, that is when we observed incredible sights! For example, while I paused on the boardwalk, a deer literally jumped out in front of me to cross over the walkway. I was down right stunned! If we went to the Island to simply walk to exercise, we would have missed all this incredible beauty that surrounded us today.
Last night, I emailed my mom and Karen about the fact that Peter received few to no emails or correspondence about Mattie's death and anniversary. Most people do write to both of us, but the emails come directly to me. I tried to put myself in Peter's shoes, and when doing this I too would be hurt by this. My mom and Karen had their own take on this as well. Later in the evening my dad wrote Peter the following email...................
"I'm NO writer! If it's not in bullet format my writing style is severely handicapped.. I try to leave all my dull and tiresome prose to as brief a communication as I can. Therefore September 8th comes and goes each year--and I remain silent. I do not find it easy to express my sorrow for the anguish you must endure on this special Anniversary each Year. Be assured my caring and thoughts are with you. I cannot express my grief and caring so I take the easy way out. I remain silent since there is no way I can commiserate my sorrow, sympathy and understanding of the torment you must go through each September 8th and probably each day of the Year."
I asked my dad whether I could post his comment here tonight, because I think it is of value to highlight. Mainly because it provides insights into the topic of SILENCE. The old saying that silence is golden..... well FORGET IT! Silence is very easy to misconstrue for a griever. It is interpreted in my mind as Mattie has been forgotten by you, that his loss and the impact of his loss isn't worth talking about, and worse it means that you aren't on this journey with me. My comments on silence do not pertain to my dad, since I know where he stands regarding Mattie and he conveys this to us often. However, even though he expresses his feelings to us on a regular basis, he decided to stay silent on Mattie's anniversary because of the profound nature of the loss. He did not know what to say! Which is what I suspect perpetuates silence for many who know us..... silence occurs because one is feeling awkward, one has the fear of making things worse for us, and saying the wrong thing. All these fears are well founded and I know all too well that it is easy to say the wrong thing to a griever, I get that, but I think it is far worse to stay silent. I also think it is harder for people to reach out to men who are grieving, and Peter isn't the only male to be facing these issues. Our society has stereotyped men, that men do not need to express feelings, they need to be tough and strong, and some even think that the death of child affects a mom more than a dad. But again, all of these things are myths. In fact, I would go on to say that I have many more socially acceptable outlets to vent my grief than Peter does, and that is simply because of my gender and what society deems NORMAL.
Also today, we received a beautiful email from Tricia. Tricia also expressed that it was difficult to write to us and wasn't even sure what to say over this profound loss. Yet, despite how my dad and Tricia felt, they both wrote, and both messages were so appreciated and caused us to pause and reflect. It takes great courage to express one's feelings, and to even allow one's self to be vulnerable to share these thoughts and feelings with us. Nonetheless, it is in this vulnerability that true and meaningful bonds occur between people.
Tricia wrote, "As we have recently come upon the 3rd anniversary of Mattie's passing, I still find it extremely difficult to believe, accept or at times, even address. I often have to remind myself that it really did happen and between the loss of the most special little boy I've ever had the privilege of knowing and the loss of my two brothers most recently, I find myself in a whirlwind of questions...why do these losses have to happen, why to us, it could've been anyone else but why our precious Mattie, or my 'Big" and "Little" brothers or my special sister back then? I remember when my faith was so strong, but these losses challenge our faith and I find myself wondering about the many unanswered questions that I can't seem to let go of. I still love to care for the children and it's not unusual for me, in my everyday work and life, to see and feel Mattie's presence. Your mother sums it up perfectly...for he is the wind that blows, the sun that shines and the moon that glows and he is all the goodness that surrounds us..everyday... and though this is a wonderful thing...it will never be consolation enough for having lost any of them. I would never say I could ever understand how you must feel, but I know you understand how much I loved Mattie, so as we reach another year gone by without him, I want you both to know I am thinking about you and sending all my love and support to you always."
Along our walk on Roosevelt Island, Peter captured this sight. I entitle it, "The Beauty of Roosevelt Island."
Everything along the boardwalk today was green and beautiful. It was so special to be there when it wasn't crowded with people. 
When we stopped for a few minutes and looked up, the first thing we noticed was a Red Bellied Woodpecker. A rather funny name, since its belly is NOT red.
We spent a great deal of time looking at this huge bird in the tree. We were perplexed by this bird because at first glance it looked like a Robin. Yet it did not sound like a robin, so I don't know. But he was glorious to observe. While we were watching him, there had to be at least 50 birds surrounding us, watching us, as we were watching the Robin. 
A beautiful Grackle!
As we were walking along the board walk, I commented that the sun was strong and lovely, perfect weather for a lizard. Low and behold, a Blue Tailed Skink appeared. Peter wanted to know if I could predict the lottery with such accuracy.
As we stared at these ducks today, Peter was sure these weren't mallards. He is correct, I looked them up and they are American Black Ducks. A first for me! Their feathers were GLOWING in the sun!
As we were leaving the Island, this mud turtle came up to say hi. He was a beauty, and I loved his red coloring. Mattie was a turtle fan, and he would have absolutely loved each and every sight we came across on the Island today. 
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