Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2007. Mattie was in Coronado, California. In the back drop of this photo was the Del Coronado Hotel. A very historic and grand Victorian lady with her iconic red turrets! Peter took Mattie bicycle riding around the island and he snapped this wonderful photo. Mattie looked so happy and the picture of health!
Quote of the day: We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox. ~ Nicholas Sparks
I remember when I was in graduate school and studying to be a mental health professional, the topic of SILENCE came up often in our clinical coursework. Students and new professionals naturally find silence awkward and uncomfortable. The instinct is instead to talk through the silence. To break it up and to add noise into the counseling session. Most of us are intimidated by silence, but as a mental health professional we know that people are paying for our services, therefore silence is sometimes perceived as a waste. A sign of being unproductive! But this is actually NOT true. Silence can be used to achieve many things clinically. Putting the clinical angle aside, I know that in my own personal life there are only a handful of people I can be silent around.
I know when I was in my 20s and I would see older couples sitting together in silence, I felt bad for them! I wondered what was happening, do they not have anything to talk about, do they not find each other interesting anymore, and the list of other questions swirled around in my mind. However, after experiencing Mattie's cancer and his death, I find that there are times Peter and I do sit in silence. It isn't a matter of the fact that we don't want to talk to each other or we have nothing to say, it is simply the fact that we have been through a lot together that we are okay with the silence. We understand our silences and as I joke often, I feel like Mattie's death has aged us. Maybe physically, but most definitely emotionally. Some couples may need 50 or 60 years together to be able to truly get the other. Whereas I feel having outlived Mattie has forced Peter and I to face the impossible, to live through the impossible, and to address issues most married couples don't face. The death of a child ages a couple, matures a couple and if the couple is able to survive this loss, there is most likely something to be said regarding this bond. It is a bond that has endured one of the greatest tests in life. A test that even supersedes time.
Though I am still not feeling 100 percent today, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen since Mattie's death in September of 2009. I won't go into detail about this individual, but she played an important role in our lives and helped us with Mattie tremendously. Though we no longer live in geographic proximity to each other, we still email with one another. Mattie's battle introduced Peter and I to some amazing women. Women who I will never forget and who we will always be indebted to. As clinicians (whether medical or mental health) we are always taught about boundaries and the importance of establishing them, but I must say when dealing with life and death issues, boundaries do go out the window. Thankfully they did because we truly needed all the support we could get when Mattie was sick and dying. It is hard to see a six year old fighting for his life and undergoing horrendous treatments and yet remain neutral and cold as a care provider. Mattie was the kind of kid who could easily break down professional barriers. As Peter would say, "to know Mattie was to love him and sooner or later Mattie would get to you."
Mattie may have died almost four years ago, but to me there are aspects of the battle that are alive and well inside of me. The relationships that we formed during this battle will always be precious to us, almost as if we all served in the same military troop and fought in a war together. It wasn't your typical war, this war involved an internal threat..... the cancer within Mattie's body. When members of the "Mattie troop" get together, especially now that Mattie is gone, it helps us keep his memory alive.
Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2007. Mattie was in Coronado, California. In the back drop of this photo was the Del Coronado Hotel. A very historic and grand Victorian lady with her iconic red turrets! Peter took Mattie bicycle riding around the island and he snapped this wonderful photo. Mattie looked so happy and the picture of health!
Quote of the day: We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox. ~ Nicholas Sparks
I remember when I was in graduate school and studying to be a mental health professional, the topic of SILENCE came up often in our clinical coursework. Students and new professionals naturally find silence awkward and uncomfortable. The instinct is instead to talk through the silence. To break it up and to add noise into the counseling session. Most of us are intimidated by silence, but as a mental health professional we know that people are paying for our services, therefore silence is sometimes perceived as a waste. A sign of being unproductive! But this is actually NOT true. Silence can be used to achieve many things clinically. Putting the clinical angle aside, I know that in my own personal life there are only a handful of people I can be silent around.
I know when I was in my 20s and I would see older couples sitting together in silence, I felt bad for them! I wondered what was happening, do they not have anything to talk about, do they not find each other interesting anymore, and the list of other questions swirled around in my mind. However, after experiencing Mattie's cancer and his death, I find that there are times Peter and I do sit in silence. It isn't a matter of the fact that we don't want to talk to each other or we have nothing to say, it is simply the fact that we have been through a lot together that we are okay with the silence. We understand our silences and as I joke often, I feel like Mattie's death has aged us. Maybe physically, but most definitely emotionally. Some couples may need 50 or 60 years together to be able to truly get the other. Whereas I feel having outlived Mattie has forced Peter and I to face the impossible, to live through the impossible, and to address issues most married couples don't face. The death of a child ages a couple, matures a couple and if the couple is able to survive this loss, there is most likely something to be said regarding this bond. It is a bond that has endured one of the greatest tests in life. A test that even supersedes time.
Though I am still not feeling 100 percent today, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen since Mattie's death in September of 2009. I won't go into detail about this individual, but she played an important role in our lives and helped us with Mattie tremendously. Though we no longer live in geographic proximity to each other, we still email with one another. Mattie's battle introduced Peter and I to some amazing women. Women who I will never forget and who we will always be indebted to. As clinicians (whether medical or mental health) we are always taught about boundaries and the importance of establishing them, but I must say when dealing with life and death issues, boundaries do go out the window. Thankfully they did because we truly needed all the support we could get when Mattie was sick and dying. It is hard to see a six year old fighting for his life and undergoing horrendous treatments and yet remain neutral and cold as a care provider. Mattie was the kind of kid who could easily break down professional barriers. As Peter would say, "to know Mattie was to love him and sooner or later Mattie would get to you."
Mattie may have died almost four years ago, but to me there are aspects of the battle that are alive and well inside of me. The relationships that we formed during this battle will always be precious to us, almost as if we all served in the same military troop and fought in a war together. It wasn't your typical war, this war involved an internal threat..... the cancer within Mattie's body. When members of the "Mattie troop" get together, especially now that Mattie is gone, it helps us keep his memory alive.
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