Tonight's picture was taken in June of 2004. Mattie was two years old and this photo reminded me of two things! The first thing was that I was sitting next to Mattie in the back seat. In fact, whenever Peter was driving, Mattie wanted me right next to him. It wasn't until Mattie turned four years old, that I was able to sit in the passenger seat next to Peter. But we had to really work on that and prepare Mattie months ahead of time for this front seat transition. Back then this whole notion seemed like a big deal, now in retrospect, where I sat in the car was one of the easier things we dealt with. The second thing this photo reminded me of was Mattie's sippy cup! Linus (from the Cartoon, Peanuts) had his blanket, Mattie had his sippy cup. Mattie was never without his cup, it came everywhere with us and the only liquid of choice was MILK. No water or juice!!! This wasn't my decision but Mattie's!!! One would have thought with the amount of milk Mattie consumed that he would have had the strongest bones around. Rather ironic when you think about it that Mattie developed bone cancer.
Quote of the day: You don't ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It's all about survival; it's all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in... ~ Nick Hornby
I think tonight's quote is actually very poignant and could really be describing someone who is dealing with the loss of a child. Though I do not have a knife literally in my stomach, figuratively the analogy is spot on. Each day, I have to decide, should I bleed out or keep it in (knife/grief) and try to move along with my day. I really believe this analogy applies to parents throughout their grief continuum. Certainly grief may change how it looks and feels over time, but it is always ever present and you would be amazed how it can be triggered out of the blue.
I received a call today from one of Mattie's oncologists. She wanted to know whether it would be okay if she had one of her patient's parents contact me. You see these parents just lost their only child in the past week to cancer. Something I know all too well about. In fact, Peter and I know of only one other couple who lost an only child to cancer. Unfortunately I am sure there are many only child parents who lose a child to cancer all over the world, but in my Foundation work so far, I haven't met them. Dealing with the loss of an only child, like dealing with the loss of any child is complex and heart wrenching. However, there are slightly different dynamics when you lose an only child. In one day, your role instantly changes from being a parent to NOT being a parent at all. Your future as you imagined it to be is forever altered and how you define and interact with the world are also irrevocably changed. Gone are school pick ups, play dates, meetings with teachers, school fundraisers, social events and gathering with other parents, and in essence when your child dies, so does your social network.
When Mattie's doctor told me about this couple, I naturally felt compelled to talk with them and try to be supportive. But given what I know now, I pondered today, WHAT CAN I OFFER THESE PEOPLE?!!! There is no magic fix, time doesn't heal the grief, people in our lives do not always understand, and yes our lives will never be the same! These are not happy things to report out. Yet I know there is great comfort in knowing that someone else understands me, shares my same thoughts and feelings, and allows me to see that I am not alone. So these are the gifts that grieving parents can give each other!!! There is no check list of "to dos," no book one can read, and no miraculous therapist who can make grief go away. It is a lifetime process, with many highs and lows!
I also think we are a society that talks a lot about HAPPINESS! This is not a word I personally would use with a parent who lost a child to cancer. Once you lose a child, feeling happy is laden with guilt. Certainly in the initial months and even the first year after a child dies, the focus should never be on happiness but on surviving. After surviving the first year, I hate to say it but other challenges arise. Mainly because our society feels that life should go back to normal after a year and that one's period of grief should be subsiding. Which is actually hysterical to me! As if grief is a light switch that can be turned off as easily as it was turned on. It DOESN'T work that way at all! Sure the first holidays without your child are hard, but guess what? ALL subsequent ones are hard too.
Each year after a child's death brings about different problems, different observations, and different realities. Realities that perhaps weren't as clear or understood the previous year.
In many ways, I do think that parents of only children bond together. We understand each other and our decisions and choices. This was certainly true when Mattie was alive and healthy. I will never forget when Mattie was in preschool, a group of moms of only children naturally formed. There were four of us, a large number which was actually unusual, but our boys all liked playing with each other and therefore we gravitated to one another. So taking this observation one step further, I do think Peter and I have insights that may help this newly grieving family. But it took me several hours to process this because my first reaction was.................... What can I possibly say to these parents and how on earth can I give them hope, when I am still looking for it myself!!!!??????????
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