Saturday, March 2, 2013

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Tonight's picture was taken in March of 2009. Mattie was home between treatments. In front of him was one of his Thomas train sets. I remember this set SO well. Mattie and I were shopping at Target one day (in our pre-cancer days) and he spied this set and wanted it. We brought it home and Mattie played with it non-stop and for years! When I found this picture tonight, it got me to pause because I did not remember playing with this set after Mattie was diagnosed with cancer. Obviously this photo confirmed that we did! All I can remember is when Mattie was a preschooler, I would sit for hours playing with these trains and wonder when I was going to get a break from PLAYING? The complexities of raising an only child is you are your child's built in play mate and I certainly did a ton of playing. I suppose looking back I could feel guilty for having the need for a break from playing, but in reality, despite feeling tired at times, I pushed through it and was always there for Mattie.


Quote of the day: Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them. ~ Jodi Picoult


I happen to love Picoult's books and when I came across her quote tonight, it resonated with me. I wouldn't characterize myself as a loner per se. I have always been an extrovert and do get my energy from those around me and through those interactions. Yet, I would have to say that Mattie's cancer and death makes it harder for me to "blend into the world." Or let's put it this way, I can blend in but it comes at a price.

Peter had to work all day today at his office, so I went with friends to a musical(The Wiz) which was being performed at Mattie's upper school campus. I love going to plays, especially musicals, so this was a good diversion for a day in which I could have spent by myself. I also appreciate seeing younger people taking an interest in the arts. I think every school should make performing in a play (in some capacity--on stage or behind the scenes) a mandatory experience. I can't think of a better way to spend one's free time than to see live theatre. Yet this is a dying art, when our younger generation seems to gravitate to electronic devices and non-expressive forms of entertainment. Which is why seeing all of these children and their families out today was wonderful to me. Yet going back to the nature of this quote, these observations of children and families are bittersweet for me. Maybe even more bittersweet when this occurs on Mattie's campus. A campus Peter and I should be a part of, but due to circumstances are not connected to anymore. Sometimes when I see parents with their children it makes me sad, it makes me see that my weekends do not look like theirs, and when the play ends they are rushing off to the next thing on their agenda. Yet my agenda is SO different, and this feeling different does breed ISOLATION and the desire to be a loner.

I enjoyed the dancing, staging, costumes, and scenery of the play. But I admit I am not a Wiz fan. I don't care for the music and to me the score isn't memorable. Yet the tale of The Wizard of Oz captures the hearts and minds of the young and old. I think when I was a child, I was captivated by the tornado and the notion that you could be transported to a magical land. As I got older, the magic of watching The Wizard of Oz was replaced or grounded more in reality. It is a story in which each character is incomplete and searching for what is missing in one's life. In search of becoming WHOLE again! Whether it be the scarecrow looking for a brain, the tinman a heart, or the lion, courage. They are on a quest together. It is through the journey, with the emphasis on journey and being TOGETHER, that they find the answers to what is missing was inside them all along.

It is my hope, or at least I wonder if it is possible, that one day I will see parents with children and feel okay by this sighting. That I can see a play at a high school and not feel disgusted that I will never see Mattie performing, and the biggest hope is that one day I will lose the feeling I have that no one around me understands this pervasive sense of isolation and loneliness that occurs when you lose a child to cancer. Somehow I don't see this happening unless I too am transported to the land of Oz!